r 


THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 

OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 


Digitized  by  the  Internet  Archive 

in  2008  with  funding  from 

IVIicrosoft  Corporation 


http://www.archive.org/details/completeworksofh02fiel 


THE  COMPLETE  WORKS 

OF 

HENRY   FIELDING,    ESQ. 


THE  NOVELS  IN  SEVEN  VOLUMES 

THE  PLAYS  AND  POEMS  IN  FIVE  VOLUMES 

THE  LEGAL  WRITINGS  IN  ONE  VOLUME 

THE  MISCELLANEOUS  WRITINGS  IN  THREE  VOLUMES 

COMPLETE  IN  SIXTEEN  VOLUMES 


With  an  Essay  on  the   Life,  Genius  and  Achievement 
of  the  Author,  by 

WILLIAM   ERNEST   HENLEY,    LL.D, 


VOLUME      TWO 

>lR.  Jonathan  Wild 


iiDiiios  HI-:  i.rxF. 


TItui  fdilinn,  printed  o«  American  deckle  edge  paper,  is 
limiled  to  <mc  tU<nisaud  numbered  and  registered  copies. 


Tikis  is  Copy  Xo.  «^ 


LyZc-^C'*'^^  IT^  ^rU^t^   Crr- 


WiLin 


''if  If' 


K  C(  'iirtM.iff' 


.nzm  e  lol  ajfsJ  Jon  bib  I  .ojriiiifiaqqc 


There  suddenly  rushed  forth  from  a  thicket  .1  creature,  which,  at  his  first 
appearance,  1  did  not  tak.-  f->  i  i>i.«n 


JQiyTrfA//'^  a/ff)  c//f 


'foOerrs,  2tu/p' 


The    Complete    Works   of 
HENRY  FIELDING,  ESQ. 

With  an  Essay  on  the  Life,  Genius  and  Achievement  of  the  Atithor, 
WILLIAM  ERNEST  HENLEY,  LL.I). 


The  History  of  the  Life  of  the  late 

MR.  JONATHAN  WILD 

and 

A  Journey  from 

This  World  to  the    Next,   &c. 


Illustrated  with 

Reproductions  of  the  Rare  Designs  by 

Stothard  (1783),  Corbould  (1793),  and  Rooker 


Pbinted  for  Subscribers  only  by 

CROSCUP  &  STERLING  COMPANY 


NEW  YORK 


CorrniGHT,  1902 
Br  Cr.oscrr  &  Stehlino  Company. 


Ac, 


CONTENTS 


BOOK    I. 


CHAPTER  I. 

Showing  the  wholesome  uses  drawn  from  recording  the  achievements  of 
those  wonderful  productions  of  nature  called  Great  Men 1 

CHAPTER  II. 

Giving  an  account  of  as  many  of  our  hero's  ancestors  as  can  be  gath- 
ered out  of  the  rubbish  of  antiquity,  which  hath  been  carefully  sifted 
for  that  purpose 4: 

CHAPTER  III. 
The  birth,  parentage,  and  education  of  Mr.  Jonathan  Wild  the  Great. . .      7 

CHAPTER  IV. 

Mr.  Wild's  first  entrance  into  the  world.  His  acquaintance  with  Count 
La  Ruse 11 

CHAPTER  V. 

A  dialogue  between  young  Master  Wild  and  Count  La  Ruse,  which, 
having  extended  to  the  rejoinder,  had  a  very  quiet,  easy  and  natural 
conclusion 14r 

CHAPTER  VI. 

Further  conferences  between  the  count  and  Master  Wild,  with  other 
matters  of  the  great  kind 20 

CHAPTER  VII. 

Master  Wild  sets  out  on  his  travels,  and  returns  home  again.  A  very 
short  chapter,  containing  infinitely  more  time  and  less  matter  than 
any  other  in  the  whole  story 33 

CHAPTER  VIII. 

An  adventure  where  Wild,  in  the  division  of  the  booty,  exhibits  an 
astonishing  instance  of  Greatness 25 

CHAPTER  IX. 

Wild  pays  a  visit  to  Miss  Lffititia  Snap.  A  description  of  that  lovely 
young  creature,  and  the  successless  issue  of  Mr.  Wild's  addresses. .    29 


J-^  O  ^V   \-»  Abp"  Wv..  «■■   ^ 


ii  CONTENTS 


CHAPTER   X. 

PA  ox 

A  disooverj'  of  nomo  matters  conccsmiiiK  the  chaste  Lffititia  which  must 
woudt;rfully  surprise,  uud  pcrluiiw  affect  our  reader 31 

CHAPTER   XI. 

CoutaininR  as  notable  instances  of  liunian  Rreatness  as  are  to  be  met 
with  in  nnoicnt  or  modern  history.  Concluding  with  .some  whole- 
some hints  to  the  gay  part  of  mankind 33 

CHAPTER   XII. 

FurtiitT  pailii'iilHrs  rcluting  to  Miss  Tishy,  which  perhaps  may  not 
greatly  surprise  after  the  former.  Tlio  description  of  a  very  fine 
gentlciUHn,  and  a  dialogue  between  Wild  and  the  count,  in  which 
public  virtue  is  just  hinted  at,  with,  etc 37 

CHAPTER  XIII. 

A  chapter  of  which  we  are  extremely  vain,  and  which  indeed  we  look  on 
as  our  rhtf-d" entire ;  containing  a  wonderful  story  concerning  the 
devil,  and  as  nice  a  scene  of  honor  as  ever  happened 40 

CHAPTER   XrV. 
In  which  the  history  of  Greatness  is  continued 44 


BOOK    II. 

CHAPTER  I. 

Characters  of  silly  people,  with  the  proper  uses  for  which  such  are 
designed 51 

CHAPTER  II. 

Great  examples  of  Greatness  in  Wild,  shown  as  well  by  his  behavior  to 
Bagshot  as  in  a  scheme  laid,  first,  to  impose  on  Heartfree  by  means 
of  the  count,  and  then  to  cheat  the  count  of  the  booty 55 

CHAPTER  III. 
Containing  scenes  of  softness,  love,  and  honor,  all  in  the  Great  style. ...    59 

CHAPTER  IV. 

In  which  Wild,  after  many  fruitless  endeavors  to  discover  his  friend, 
moralizes  on  his  misfortune  in  a  speech,  which  may  be  of  use  (if 
rightly  understood)  to  some  other  considerable  speech-makers 65 

CHAPTER  V. 

Containing  many  surprising  adventures,  which  our  hero,  with  Great 
Greatness,  achieved 68 

CHAPTER  VI. 
Of  huts 73 


CONTENTS  iii 


CHAPTER  VII. 

PAGE 

Showing  the  consequence  which  attended  Heartfree's  adventures  with 
Wild  ;  all  natural  and  common  enough  to  little  wretches  who  deal 
with  great  men,  together  with  some  precedents  of  letters,  being  the 
different  methods  of  answering  a  dun 75 

CHAPTER  VIII. 
In  which  our  hero  carries  Greatness  to  an  immoderate  height 79 

CHAPTER  IX. 

More  Greatness  in  Wild.  A  low  scene  between  Mrs.  Heartfree  and  her 
children,  and  a  scheme  of  our  hero  worthy  the  highest  admiration, 
and  even  astonishment 82 

CHAPTER  X. 
Sea-adventures  very  new  and  surprising 85 

CHAPTER  XI. 
The  great  and  wonderful  behavior  of  our  hero  in  the  boat 88 

CHAPTER  XII. 
The  strange  and  yet  natural  escape  of  our  hero 90 

CHAPTER  XIII. 
The  conclusion  of  the  boat  adventure  and  the  end  of  the  second  book. .    93 


BOOK    III. 

CHAPTER  I. 

The  low  and  pitiful  behavior  of  Heartfree  ;  and  the  foolish  conduct  of 
his  apprentice 96 

CHAPTER  II. 

A  soliloquy  of  Heartfree's,  full  of  low  and  base  ideas,  without  a  sylla- 
ble of  Greatness 99 

CHAPTER  III. 
Wherein  our  hero  proceeds  in  the  road  to  Greatness 103 

CHAPTER  IV. 

In  which  a  young  hero,  of  wonderful  good  promise,  makes  his  first 
appearance,  with  many  other  Great  Matters 106 

CHAPTER  V. 
More  and  more  Greatness,  unparalleled  in  history  or  romance lOS 


iy  cusTuyxs 


CHAPTER  VI. 

PACE 

The  ovent  of  Fircblood's  ndventure  ;  and  a  treaty  of  marriaprP,  which 
niijcht  havo  bucu  concluded  cither  at  Siuitlilicld  or  St.  James's 11.3 

CHAPTER   VII. 

Matters  preliminary  to  the  marriase  between  Mr.  Jonathan  Wild  and 

the  chtt.stc  Lii'titia 116 

CHAPTER   VIII. 

A  dialocrno  matrimonial,  whi<h  passed  between  Jonathan  Wild,  esq., 
and  Lii'titia  his  wife,  on  tlic  inornint;  of  tlie  day  fortnight  ou  which 
his  nuptials  were  celebrated  ;  which  concluded  more  amicably  than 
those  debates  generally  do 119 

CHAPTER  IX. 

Observations  on  the  foregoing  dialogue,  together  with  a  base  design  on 
our  hero,  which  must  be  detested  by  every  lover  of  Greatness 123 

CHAPTER   X. 

Mr.  Wild  with  unprecedented  generosity  visits  his  friend  Heartfree,  and 
the  ungrateful  reception  he  met  with 127 

CHAPTER   XI. 

A  scheme  so  deeply  laid,  that  it  shames  all  the  politics  of  this  oar  age  ; 
with  digression  and  subdigression 130 

CHAPTER  XII. 
New  instances  of  Friendly's  folly,  &c 133 

CHAPTER  XIII. 

Something  concerning  Fireblood,  which  will  surprise  ;  and  somewhat 
touching  one  of  the  Miss  Snaps,  which  will  greatly  concern  the 
reader 136 

CHAPTER  XIV. 

In  which  our  hero  makes  a  speech  well  worthy  to  be  celebrated  ;  and  the 
Ijehuvior  of  one  of  the  gang,  perhaps  more  unnatural  thau  any 
other  part  of  this  history 138 


BOOK    IY. 

CHAPTER  I. 

A  sentiment  of  the  ordinarj-'s,  worthy  to  be  written  in  letters  of  gold  ;  a 
very  extraordinary  instance  of  folly  in  Friendly  ;  and  a  dreadful 
accident  which  befell  our  hero 144 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER  II.  „.^„ 

PAGE 

A  short  hint  concerning  popular  in  gratitude.   Mr.  Wild's  arrival  in  the 

castle,  with  other  occurrences  to  be  found  in  no  other  history 148 

CHAPTER  III. 
Curious  anecdotes  relating  to  the  history  of  Newgate 152 

CHAPTER  IV. 

The  dead-warrant  arrives  for  Heartfree ;  on  which  occasion  Wild 
betrays  some  human  weakness 157 

CHAPTER  V. 
Containing  various  matters 159 

CHAPTER  VI. 
In  which  the  foregoing  happy  incident  is  accounted  for 163 

CHAPTER  VII. 
Mrs.  Heartfree  relates  her  adventures 165 

CHAPTER  VIII. 
In  which  jNIrs.  Heartfree  continues  the  relation  of  her  adventures 171 

CHAPTER  IX. 
Containing  incidents  very  surprising 175 

CHAPTER  X, 
A  horrible  uproar  in  the  Gate 181 

CHAPTER  XI. 
The  conclusion  of  Mrs.  Heartfree's  adventures 183 

CHAPTER  XII. 
The  history  returns  to  the  contemplation  of  Greatness 188 

CHAPTER   XIII. 

A  dialogue  between  the  ordinary  of  Newgate  and  Mr.  Jonathan  Wild  the 
Great ;  in  which  the  subjects  of  death,  immortality,  and  other  grave 
matters,  are  very  learnedly  handled  by  the  former 191 

CHAPTER  XIV. 
Wild  proceeds  to  the  highest  consummation  of  human  Greatness 197 

CHAPTER  XV. 
The  character  of  our  hero,  and  the  conclusion  of  this  history 201 


A  JOUUNEY 
FUOM   THIS   AVOllLD   TO  THE  NEXT,  ETC. 

PACiK 

The  Intuodcction '-^ll 

BOOK  I. 

CHAPTER  I. 

The  author  dies,  meets  with  Mercury,  and  is  by  him  conducted  to  the 
stage,  which  sets  out  for  the  other  world 215 

CHAPTER  II. 
In  which  the  author  first  refutes  some  idle  opinions  concerning  spirits, 
and  the  passengers  relate  their  several  deaths 218 

CHAPTER  III. 
The  adventures  we  met  with  in  the  City  of  Diseases 222 

CHAPTER   IV. 
Discourses  on  the  road,  and  a  description  of  the  palace  of  death 229 

CHAPTER  V. 

The  travelers  proceed  on  their  journey,  and  meet  several  spirits,  who  are 
coming  into  the  flesh 2.^3 

CHAPTER  VI. 

An  account  of  the  wheel  of  Fortune,  with  a  method  of  preparing  a  spirit 
for  this  world 237 

CHAPTER  VII. 
The  proceedings  of  Judge  Minos,  at  the  gate  of  Elysium 240 

CHAPTER  VIII. 
The  adventures  which  the  author  met  on  his  first  entrance  into  Elysium. .  24-5 

CHAPTER  IX. 
More  adventures  in  Elysium 248 

CHAPTER   X. 

The  author  is  surprised  at  meeting  Julian  the  apostate  in  Elysium  ;  but 
is  satisfied  by  him,  by  what  means  he  procured  his  entrance  there. 
Julian  relates  his  adventures  in  the  character  of  a  Slave 251 

CHAPTER  XI. 

In  which  Julian  relates  his  adventures  in  the  character-of  an  avaricious 
Jew 259 


CONTENTS  vii 

CHAPTER  Xn. 

What  happened  to  Julian  in  the  characters  of  a  General,  an  Heir,  a  Car- 
penter, and  a  Beau 263 

CHAPTER  XIII. 
Julian  passes  into  a  Fop 267 

CHAPTER   Xr\^ 
Adventures  in  the  person  of  a  Monk 268 

CHAPTER  XV. 
Julian  passes  into  the  character  of  a  Fiddler 270 

CHAPTER  XVI. 
The  history  of  the  Wise  Man 275 

CHAPTER  XVII. 
Julian  enters  into  the  person  of  a  King 282 

CHAPTER   XVm. 
Julian  passes  into  a  Fool 288 

CHAPTER  XIX. 
Julian  appears  in  the  character  of  a  Beggar 293 

CHAPTER  XX. 
Julian  performs  the  part  of  a  Statesman 298 

CHAPTER  XXI. 
Julian's  adventures  in  the  post  of  a  Soldier 304 

CHAPTER   XXII. 
What  happened  to  Julian  in  the  person  of  a  Tailor 311 

CHAPTER  XXIII. 
The  life  of  Alderman  Julian 314 

CHAPTER  XXIV. 

Julian  recounts  what  happened  to  him  vrhile  he  was  a  Poet 320 

CHAPTER  XXV. 
Julian  performs  the  parts  of  a  Knight,  and  a  Dancing-Master 324 


BOOK    XIX. 


CHAPTER  VII. 
Wherein  Anna  Boleyn  relates  the  history  of  her  life 325 


A  LIST  OF  THE  PRII^CIPAL 
GHARAOTEES 


JONATHAN  WILD 


Jonathan  Wild    . 
Mr.  Wild,  the  elder    . 
Mr.    Snap      .... 
Theodosia   Snap    (Miss   "  Doshy  " 
L^TITIA  Snap  (Miss  "  Tishy,"  after 

-wards  Mrs.  Wild) 
Thomas   Heartfree 
Mrs.  Heartfree    . 
Nancy  Heartfree  (afterwards  Mrs 

Friendly ) 
Jack   Friendly 
Tom  Smirk   . 

A   VERY   grave    man 

The  Ordinary  of  Newgate 

Count  l.v  Ruse 

Molly  Straddle 

Bob   Bagshot 

Marybone 

Fireblood 

Blueskin 

Roger  Johnson 


A  scoundrel. 
His  father. 
A  bailiff. 

Daughters  to  Mr.  Snap. 

A  jeweller. 
His  wife. 

Their  daughter. 

An  apprentice  to  Heartfree. 

An  attorney's  clerk. 

A  man  imprisoned  for  debt. 


Thieves. 


LIST  OF  ILLUSTRATIONS 


I.  — JONATHAN  WILD 

There  suddenly  rushed  forth  from  a  thicket  a  creature, 
which,  at  his  first  appearance,  i  did  not  take  for  a 
MAN  (p.  177)    ........  Frontispiece 

From  a  dratuing  by  R.  Corbould. 

_,  PAGE 

Facsimile  OF  Title  Page  TO  THE  FIRST  EDITION  (1743)   .         .       xiii 

Jonathan   Wild  comprised  the  third  volume  of  the  Miscel- 
lanies published  in  the  year  named. 

When  the  officers  came  for  this  poor  wretch  they  found 
him  meanly  diverting  himself  with  his  little   chil- 
DREN        •••.......        133 

From  a  drawing  by  T.  Btoihard. 

He  THEN  ACQUAINTED  ME  THAT  HE  WAS  A  HERMIT.  ,  .  179 

From  a  drawing  by  T.  Stotliard. 
Here  the  punch  by  entering  waked  Mr.  Wild,  who  was 

FAST  asleep,  and  PUT  AN  END  TO  THE  SERMON  .     .     .    196 

From  a  drawing  by  T.  Stotliard. 

II.  — A  JOURNEY  FROM  THIS  WORLD  TO  THE  NEXT,  ETC. 

Facsimile  OF  Title  Page  TO  THE  first  edition  (1743)  .         .       209 

A  Journey  from  This  World  to  the  Next,  etc.,  comprised  part 
of  the  second  volume  of  the  Miscellanies. 

I  WAS  STEPPING  TOWARD  THE  GATE;  BUT  HE  PULLED  ME  BY  THE 
SLEEVE,  AND  TELLING  ME  NO  PRIME  MINISTER  EVER  ENTERED 
THERE  ..........  304 

Engraved  by  J.  Collyer  from  a  drawing  by  M.  Rooher  ( 1783) . 

I    REVISITED    MY    OLD    FRIEND    MiNOS,    WHO    TREATED    ME    WITH 

VERY    LITTLE    RESPECT  .......  325 

From  a  draicing  by  T.  Stotliard. 


MISCELLANIES. 


THE 


LIFE 

O    F 

M:  JONATHAN  WILD 

THE    GREAT. 
VOL.      IlL 

By  Henry  Fielding, Efqi 

LONDON, 

Printed  for  the  Author  ;  and  fold  by  A,  Mil- 
J.AR  J  oppofite  to  Catharine-ftrest  in  the  Strand, 

M  DCCXLIII. 


ADVERTISEMENT   FKOM 

THE  PUBLISHEE  TO  THE  HEADER  (1754). 


The  following  pages  are  the  corrected  edition  of  a  book 
■which  was  first  published  in  the  year  1743. 

That  any  personal  application  could  have  ever  been  pos- 
sibly drawn  from  them,  will  surprise  all  who  are  not 
deeply  versed  in  the  black  art  (for  so  it  seems  most  prop- 
erly to  be  called),  of  deciphering  men's  meaning  when 
couched  in  obscure,  ambiguous,  or  allegorical  expressions: 
this  art  hath  been  exercised  more  than  once  on  the  author 
of  our  little  book,  who  hath  contracted  a  considerable  degree 
of  odium  from  having  had  the  scurrility  of  others  imputed 
to  him.  The  truth  is,  as  a  very  corrupt  state  of  morals  is 
here  represented,  the  scene  seems  veiy  properly  to  have 
been  laid  in  Newgate ;  nor  do  I  see  any  reason  for  intro- 
ducing any  allegory  at  all ;  unless  we  will  agree  that  there 
are  without  those  walls,  some  other  bodies  of  men  of  worse 
morals  than  those  within ;  and  who  have,  consequently,  a 
right  to  change  places  w^th  its  present  inhabitants. 

To  such  persons,  if  any  such  there  be,  I  would  particu- 
larly recommend  the  perusal  of  the  third  chapter  of  the 
fourth  book  of  the  following  history,  and  more  particularly 
still  the  speech  of  the  grave  man  in  pages  155-156  of  that 
book. 


THE    HISTORY    OF    THE    LIFE 


OF   THE   LATE 


Mr.  Jonathan  Wild  the  Great 


BOOK    I. 


CHAPTER    I. 

Showing  the  wholesome  uses  drawn  from  recording  the  achievements 
of  those  wonderful  productions  of  nature  called  Great  Men. 

As  it  is  necessary  that  all  great  and  surprising  events, 
the  designs  of  which  are  laid,  conducted,  and  brought  to 
perfection  by  the  utmost  force  of  human  invention  and- 
art,  should  be  produced  by  g-reat  and  eminent  men,  so 
the  lives  of  such  may  be  justly  and  properly  styled  the 
quintessence  of  history.  In  these,  when  delivered  to  us 
by  sensible  writers,  we  are  not  only  most  agreeably  en- 
tertained, but  most  usefully  instructed;  for,  besides  the 
attaining-  hence  a  consummate  knowledge  of  human 
nature  in  general ;  of  its  secret  spring-s,  various  windings, 
and  perplexed  mazes;  we  have  here  before  our  eyes 
lively  examples  of  whatever  is  amiable  or  detestable, 
worthy  of  admiration  or  abhorrence,  and  are  conse- 
quently taught,  in  a  manner  infinitely  more  effectual 
than  by  precept,  what  we  are  eag-erly  to  imitate  or  care- 
fully to  avoid. 

But  besides  the  two  obvious  advantages  of  surveying, 
as  it  were  in  a  picture,  the  true  beauty  of  virtue  and  de- 
formity of  vice,  we  may  moreover  learn  from  Plutarch, 


2  JONATHAN    WILD. 

Nepos,  Suetonius,  and  other  biog:raphers,  this  useful 
lesson,  not  too  hastily,  nor  in  the  gross,  to  bestow  either 
our  praise  or  censure;  since  we  shall  often  find  such  a 
mixture  of  good  and  evil  in  the  same  character  that  it 
may  require  a  very  accurate  judgment  and  a  verj'  elabo- 
rate inquir}'  to  determine  on  which  side  the  balance  turns, 
for  though  we  sometimes  meet  with  an  Aristides  or  a 
Brutus,  a  Lysander  or  a  Nero,  yet  far  the  greater  num- 
ber are  of  the  mixed  kind,  neither  totally  good  nor  bad  ; 
their  greatest  virtues  being  obscured  and  allayed  by  their 
vices,  and  those  again  softened  and  colored  over  by  their 
virtues. 

Of  this  kind  was  the  illustrious  person  whose  history 
we  now  undertake;  to  whom,  though  Nature  had  given 
the  greatest  and  most  shining  endowments,  she  had  not 
given  them  absolutely  pure  and  without  allay.  Though 
he  had  much  of  the  admirable  in  his  character,  as  much 
perhaps  as  is  usually  to  be  found  in  a  hero,  I  will  not  yet 
venture  to  affirm  that  he  was  entirely  free  from  all  de- 
fects, or  that  the  sharp  e^^es  of  censure  could  not  spy  out 
some  little  blemishes  lurking  amongst  his  many  great 
perfections. 

We  would  not,  therefore,  be  understood  to  affect  giving 
the  reader  a  perfect  or  consummate  pattern  of  human 
excellence,  but  rather,  by  faithfully  recording  some  little 
imperfections  which  shadowed  over  the  lustre  of  those 
great  qualities  which  we  shall  here  record,  to  teach  the 
lesson  we  have  above  mentioned,  to  induce  our  reader 
with  us  to  lament  the  frailty  of  human  nature,  and  to 
convince  him  that  no  mortal,  after  a  thorough  scrutiny, 
can  be  a  proper  object  of  our  adoration. 

But  before  we  enter  on  this  great  work  we  must  en- 
deavor to  remove  some  errors  of  opinion  which  mankind 
have,  by  the  disingenuity  of  writers,  contracted  for  these, 
from  their  fear  of  contradicting  the  obsolete  and  absurd 
doctrines  of  a  set  of  simple  fellows,  called,in  derision,  sages 
or  philosophers,  have  endeavored,  as  much  as  possible,  to 


JONATHAN  WILD.  3 

confound  the  ideas  of  greatness  and  goodness ;  whereas 
no  two  things  can  possibly  be  more  distinct  from  each 
other,  for  greatness  consists  in  bringing  all  manner  of 
mischief  on  mankind,  and  goodness  in  removing  it  from 
them.  It  seems  therefore  very  unlikely  that  the  same 
person  should  possess  them  both ;  and  jet  nothing  is  more 
usual  with  writers,  who  find  many  instances  of  greatness 
in  their  favorite  hero,  than  to  make  him  a  compliment  of 
goodness  into  the  bargain  ;  and  this,  without  considering 
that  by  such  means  they  destroy  the  great  perfection 
called  uniformity  of  character.  In  the  histories  of  Alex- 
ander and  Cassar  we  are  frequently,  and  indeed  imperti- 
nently, reminded  of  their  benevolence  and  generositj^,  of 
their  clemency  and  kindness.  When  the  former  had  with 
fire  and  sword  overrun  a  vast  empire,  had  destroyed  the 
lives  of  an  immense  number  of  innocent  wretches,  had 
scattered  ruin  and  desolation  like  a  whirlwind,  we  are 
told,  as  an  example  of  his  clemency,  that  he  did  not  cut 
the  throat  of  an  old  woman,  and  ravish  her  daughters, 
but  was  content  with  only  undoing  them.  And  when  the 
mighty  Ceesar,  with  wonderful  greatness  of  mind,  had 
destroyed  the  liberties  of  his  country,  and  with  all  the 
means  of  fraud  and  force  had  placed  himself  at  the  head 
of  his  equals,  had  corrupted  and  enslaved  the  greatest 
people  whom  the  sun  ever  saw,  we  are  reminded,  as  an 
evidence  of  his  generosity,  of  his  largesses  to  his  follow- 
ers and  tools,  by  whose  means  he  had  accomplished  his 
purpose,  and  by  whose  assistance  he  was  to  establish  it. 

Now,  who  doth  not  see  that  such  sneaking  qualities  as 
these  are  rather  to  be  bewailed  as  imperfections  than 
admired  as  ornaments  in  these  great  men  ;  rather  obscur- 
ing their  glory,  and  holding  them  back  in  their  race  to 
greatness,  indeed  unworthy  the  end  for  which  they  seem 
to  have  come  into  the  world,  viz :  of  perpetrating  vast  and 
mighty  mischief  ? 

We  hope  our  reader  will  have  reason  justly  to  acquit 
us  of  any  such  confounding  ideas  in  the  following  pages, 


4  JONATHAN  WILD. 

in  which,  as  we  are  to  record  the  actions  of  a  great  man, 
so  we  have  nowhere  mentioned  any  spark  of  goodness 
which  had  discovered  itself  either  faintly  in  him,  or  more 
g-laring-ly  in  any  other  person,  but  as  a  meanness  and  im- 
perfection, disqualifj'ing-  them  for  undertakings  which 
lead  to  honor  and  esteem  among  men. 

As  our  hero  had  as  little  as  perhaps  is  to  be  found  of 
that  meanness,  indeed  only  enough  to  make  him  partaker 
of  the  imperfection  of  humanity,  instead  of  the  perfection 
of  diabolism,  we  have  ventured  to  call  him  The  Great ; 
nor  do  we  doubt  but  our  reader,  when  he  hath  perused 
his  story,  will  concur  with  us  in  allowing  him  that  title. 


CHAPTER  II. 

Giving  an  account  of  as  many  of  our  hero's  ancestors  as  can  be 
gathered  out  of  the  rubbisli  of  antiquity,  which  hath  been  care- 
fully sifted  for  that  purpose. 

It  is  the  custom  of  all  biographers,  at  their  entrance 
into  their  work,  to  step  a  little  backwards  (as  far,  indeed, 
generally  as  they  are  able)  and  to  trace  up  their  hero,  as 
the  ancients  did  the  river  Nile,  till  an  incapacity  of  pro- 
ceeding higher  puts  an  end  to  their  search. 

What  first  gave  rise  to  this  method  is  somewhat  diflQ- 
cult  to  determine.  Sometimes  I  have  thought  that  the 
hero's  ancestors  have  been  introduced  as  foils  to  himself. 
Again,  I  have  imagined  it  might  be  to  obviate  a  suspi- 
cion that  such  extraordinary  personages  were  not  pro- 
duced in  the  ordinary  course  of  nature,  and  may  have 
proceeded  from  the  author's  fear  that,  if  we  were  not 
told  who  their  fathers  were,  they  might  be  in  danger,  like 
Prince  Pretty  man,  of  being  supposed  to  have  had  none. 
Lastly,  and  perhaps  more  trul}-,  I  have  conjectured  that 
the  design  of  the  biographer  hath  been  no  more  than  to 
show  his  great  learning  and  knowledge  of  antiquity ;  a 


JONATHAN  WILD.  5 

design  to  ■which  the  world  hath  probably  owed  many  not- 
able discoveries,  and  indeed  most  of  the  labors  of  our 
antiquarians. 

But  whatever  original  this  custom  had,  it  is  now  too 
well  established  to  be  disputed.  I  shall  therefore  conform 
to  it  in  the  strictest  manner. 

Mr.  Jonathan  Wild,  or  Wyld,  then  (for  he  himself  did 
not  always  agree  in  one  method  of  spelling  his  name), 
was  descended  from  the  great  Wolfstan  Wild,  who  came 
over  with  Hengist,  and  distinguished  himself  very  emi- 
nently at  that  famous  festival  where  the  Britons  were  so 
treacherously  murdered  by  the  Saxons ;  for  when  the 
the  word  was  given,  i.  e.,  Nemet  eour  Saxes,  take  out 
your  swords,  this  gentleman,  being  a  little  hard  of  hear- 
ing, mistook  the  sound  for  Nemet  her  sacs,  take  out 
their  purses;  instead  therefore  of  applying  to  the  throat, 
he  immediately  applied  to  the  pocket  of  his  guest,  and 
contented  himself  with  taking  all  that  he  had,  without 
attempting  his  life. 

The  next  ancestor  of  our  hero  who  was  remarkably 
eminent  was  Wild,  surnamed  Langf  anger,  or  Longfinger. 
He  flourished  in  the  reign  of  Henry  III.,  and  was  strictly 
attached  to  Hubert  de  Burgh,  whose  friendship  he  was 
recommended  to  by  his  great  excellence  in  an  art  of  which 
Hubert  was  himself  the  inventor ;  he  could,  without  the 
knowledge  of  the  proprietor,  with  great  ease  and  dex- 
terity, draw  forth  a  man's  purse  from  any  part  of  his 
garment  where  it  was  deposited,  and  hence  he  derived 
his  surname.  This  gentleman  was  the  first  of  his  family 
who  had  the  honor  to  suffer  for  the  good  of  his  country, 
on  whom  a  wit  of  that  time  made  the  following  epitaph: 

O  shame  o'  justice!    Wild  is  hang'd, 
For  thatten  he  a  pocket  fanged, 
While  safe  old  Hubert,  and  his  gang, 
Doth  pocket  o'  the  nation  fang. 

Langfanger  left  a  son  named  Edward,  whom  he  had 
carefully  instructed  in  the  art  for  which  he  himself  was 


6  JONATHAN  WILD. 

so  famous.  This  Edward  liad  a  ^Tandson,  wlio  served  as 
a  volunteer  under  the  famous  Sir  John  FalstafF,  and  by 
his  g-allant  demeanor  so  recommended  himself  to  his  cap- 
tani,  that  he  would  have  certainly  been  promoted  by  him 
had  Harry  the  Fifth  kept  his  word  with  his  old  com- 
panion. 

After  the  death  of  Edward  the  family  remained  in  some 
obscurity  down  to  the  reign  of  Charles  the  First,  when 
James  Wild  distinguished  himself  on  both  sides  the  ques- 
tion in  the  civil  wars,  passing-  from  one  to  t'other,  as 
Heaven  seemed  to  declare  itself  in  favor  of  either  party. 
At  the  end  of  the  war,  James  not  being  rewarded  accord- 
ing to  his  merits,  as  is  usually  the  case  of  such  impartial 
persons,  he  associated  himself  with  a  brave  man  of  those 
times,  whose  name  was  Hind,  and  declared  open  war  with 
both  parties.  He  was  successful  in  several  actions,  and 
spoiled  many  of  the  enemy;  till  at  length,  being  over- 
powered and  taken,  he  was,  contrary  to  the  law  of  arms, 
put  basel}'  and  cowardly  to  death  by  a  combination  be- 
tween twelve  men  of  the  enemy's  party,  who,  after  some 
consultation,  unanimously  agreed  on  the  said  murder. 

This  Edward  took  to  wife  Rebecca,  the  daughter  of  the 
above-mentioned  John  Hind,  Esq.,  by  whom  he  had  issue 
John,  Edward,  Thomas,  and  Jonathan,  and  three  daugh. 
ters,  namely,  Grace,  Charity,  and  Honor.  John  followed 
the  fortunes  of  his  father,  and,  suffering  wath  him,  left  no 
issue.  Edward  was  so  remarkable  for  his  compassionate 
temper  that  he  spent  his  life  in  soliciting  the  causes  of  the 
distressed  captives  in  Newgate,  and  is  reported  to  have 
held  a  strict  friendship  with  an  eminent  divine  who  so- 
licited the  spiritual  causes  of  the  said  captives.  He  mar- 
ried Editha,  daughter  and  co-heiress  of  Geolfry  Snap, 
gent.,  who  long  enjoyed  an  office  under  the  high  sherifT 
of  London  and  Middlesex,  by  which  with  great  reputation, 
he  acquired  a  handsome  fortune;  by  her  he  had  no  issue. 
Thomas  went  very  young  abroad  to  one  of  our  American 
colonies,  and  hath  not  been  since  heard  of.    As  for  the 


I 


JONATHAN  WILD.  7 

daughters,  Grace  was  married  to  a  merchant  of  York- 
shire, who  dealt  in  horses.  Charit}^  took  to  husband  an 
eminent  gentleman,  whose  name  I  cannot  learn,  but  who 
was  famous  for  so  friendly  a  disposition  that  he  was  bail 
for  above  a  hundred  persons  in  one  year.  He  had  like- 
wise the  remarkable  humor  of  walking  in  Westminster 
Hall  with  a  straw  in  his  shoe.  Honor,  the  youngest, 
died  unmarried;  she  lived  many  years  in  this  town,  was  a 
great  frequenter  of  plays,  and  used  to  be  remarkable  for 
distributing  oranges  to  all  who  would  accept  of  them. 

Jonathan  married  Elizabeth,  daughter  of  Scragg  Hol- 
low, of  Hockley-in-the-Hole,  Esq.,  and  by  her  had  Jona- 
than, who  is  the  illustrious  subject  of  these  memoirs. 


CHAPTER    III. 

The  birth,  parentage,  and  education  of  Mr.  Jonathan  Wild  the 

Great. 

It  is  observable  that  Nature  seldom  produces  any  one 
who  is  afterwards  to  act  a  notable  part  on  the  stage  of 
life,  but  she  gives  some  warning  of  her  intention ;  and,  as 
the  dramatic  poet  generally  prepares  the  entry  of  every 
considerable  character  with  a  solemn  narrative,  or  at 
least  a  great  flourish  of  drums  and  trumpets,  so  doth  this 
our  Alma  Mater  by  some  shrewd  hints  pre-admonish  us 
of  her  intention,  giving  us  warning,  as  it  were,  and  cry- 
ing— 

Venienti  occurite  morbo. 

Thus  Astyages,  who  was  the  grandfather  of  Cyrus, 
dreamt  that  his  daughter  was  brought  to  bed  of  a  vine, 
whose  branches  overspread  all  Asia ;  and  Hecuba,  while 
big  with  Paris,  dreamt  that  she  was  delivered  of  a  fire- 
brand that  set  all  Troy  in  flames ;  so  did  the  mother  of 
our  great  man,  while  she  was  of  child  with  him,  dream 
that  she  was  enjoyed  in  the  night  by  the  gods  Mercury 


8  JONATHAN  WILD. 

and  Priapus.  This  dream  puzzled  all  the  learned  astrol- 
ogers of  her  time,  seeming'  to  imply  in  it  a  contradiction  ; 
Mercury  being  the  god  of  ingenuity,  and  Priapus  the 
terror  of  those  who  practised  it.  What  made  this  dream 
the  more  wonderful,  and  perhaps  the  true  cause  of  its 
being  remembered,  was  a  very  extraordinary  circum- 
stance, sufficiently'  denoting  something  preternatural  in  it; 
for  though  she  had  never  heard  even  the  name  of  either 
of  these  gods,  she  repeated  these  ver}'  words  in  the  morn- 
ing, with  only  a  small  mistake  of  the  quantity  of  the 
latter,  which  she  chose  to  call  Priapus  instead  of  Priapus; 
and  her  husband  swore  that,  though  he  might  possibly 
have  named  Mercury  to  her  (for  he  had  heard  of  such  an 
heathen  god),  he  never  in  his  life  could  anywise  have  put 
her  in  mind  of  that  other  deity,  with  whom  he  had  no 
acquaintance. 

Another  remarkable  incident  was,  that  during  her 
whole  pregnancy  she  constantly  longed  for  everything  she 
saw;  nor  could  be  satisfied  with  her  wish  unless  she 
enjoyed  it  clandestinely  ;  and  as  nature,  by  true  and 
accurate  observers,  is  remarked  to  give  us  no  appetites 
without  furnishing  us  with  the  means  of  gratifying  them, 
so  had  she  at  this  time  a  most  marvelous  glutinous 
quality  attending  her  fingers,  to  which,  as  to  birdlime, 
ever>i:hing  closely  adhered  that  she  handled. 

To  omit  other  stories,  some  of  which  may  be,  perhaps, 
the  growth  of  superstition,  we  proceed  to  the  birth  of  our 
hero,  who  made  his  first  appearance  on  this  great  theatre 
the  very  day  when  the  plague  first  broke  out  in  1665. 
Some  say  his  mother  was  delivered  of  him  in  an  house  of 
an  orbicular  or  round  form  in  Covent  Garden;  but  of  this 
we  are  not  certain.  He  was  some  years  afterwards  bap- 
tized by  the  famous  Mr.  Titus  Gates. 

Nothing  very  remarkable  passed  in  his  years  of  infancy, 
save  that,  as  the  letters  th  are  the  most  difficult  of  pro- 
nunciation, and  the  last  which  a  child  attains  to  the  utter- 
ance of,  so  they  were  the  first  that  came  with  any  readi- 


JONATHAN  WILD.  9 

ness  from  young  Master  Wild.  Nor  must  we  omit  the 
early  indications  which  he  gave  of  the  sweetness  of  his 
temper;  for  though  he  was  by  no  means  to  be  terrified 
into  compliance,  yet  might  he,  by  a  sugar-plum,  be 
brought  to  your  purpose;  indeed,  to  say  the  truth,  he  was 
to  be  bribed  to  anything,  which  made  many  say  he  was 
certainly  born  to  be  a  great  man. 

He  was  scarcely  settled  at  school  before  he  gave  marks 
of  his  lofty  and  aspiring  temper  and  w^as  regarded  by  all 
his  schoolfellows  with  that  deference  which  men  gener- 
ally pay  to  those  superior  geniuses  who  will  exact  it  of 
them.  If  an  orchard  was  to  be  robbed  Wild  was  con- 
sulted, and  though  he  was  himself  seldom  concerned  in 
the  execution  of  the  design,  yet  was  he  always  concerter 
of  it,  and  treasurer  of  the  booty,  some  little  part  of  which 
he  would  now  and  then,  with  wonderful  generosity, 
bestow  on  those  who  took  it.  He  was  generally  very 
secret  on  these  occasions,  but  if  any  offered  to  plunder  of 
Ms  own  head,  without  acquainting  Master  Wild,  and 
making  a  deposit  of  the  booty,  he  was  sure  to  have  an 
information  against  him  lodged  with  the  schoolmaster, 
and  to  be  severely  punished  for  his  pains. 

He  discovered  so  little  attention  to  school-learning  that 
his  master,  who  was  a  very  wise  and  worthy  man,  soon 
gave  over  all  care  and  trouble  on  that  account,  and,  ac- 
quainting his  parents  that  their  son  proceeded  extremely 
well  in  his  studies,  he  permitted  his  pupil  to  follow  his 
own  inclinations,  perceiving  they  led  him  to  nobler  pur- 
suits than  the  sciences,  which  are  generally  acknowl- 
edged to  be  a  very  unprofitable  study,  and  indeed  greatlj'- 
to  hinder  the  advancement  of  men  in  the  world;  but 
though  Master  Wild  was  not  esteemed  the  readiest  at 
making  his  exercise,  he  was  universally  allowed  to  be  the 
most  dexterous  at  stealing  it  of  all  his  schoolfellows, 
being  never  detected  in  such  furtive  compositions,  nor 
indeed  in  any  other  exercitations  of  his  great  talents, 
which  all  inclmed  the  same  way,  but  once,  when  he  had 


10  JONATHAN  WILD. 

laid  violent  hands  on  a  book  called  Gradus  ad  Parnas- 
sum,  i.  e.,  A  stc}^  toivards  Parnassus,  on  which  account 
his  master,  who  was  a  man  of  most  wonderful  wit  and 
sagacity,  is  said  to  have  told  him  he  wished  it  mig-ht  not 
prove  in  the  event  Gradus  ad  Patibulum,  i.  e.,A  step 
toivards  the  galloics. 

But,  thoug-h  he  would  not  give  himself  the  pains  re- 
quisite to  acquire  a  competent  sufficiency  in  the  learned 
languages,  yet  did  he  readily  listen  with  attention  to 
others,  especially  when  they  translated  the  classical 
authors  to  him;  nor  was  he  in  the  least  backward,  at  all 
such  times,  to  express  his  approbation.  He  was  wonder- 
fully pleased  with  that  passage  in  the  eleventh  Iliad 
where  Achilles  is  said  to  have  bound  two  sons  of  Priam 
upon  a  mountain,  and  afterwards  to  have  released  them 
for  a  sum  of  money.  This  was,  he  said,  alone  sufficient 
to  refute  those  who  affected  a  contempt  for  the  wisdom 
of  the  ancients,  and  an  undeniable  testimony  of  the  great 
antiquity  of  priggism.*  He  was  ravished  with  the  ac- 
count which  Nestor  gives  in  the  same  book  of  the  rich 
booty  which  he  bore  off  (i.  e.,  stole)  from  the  Eleans. 
He  was  desirous  of  having  this  often  repeated  to  him, 
and  at  the  end  of  every  repetition  he  constantly  fetched  a 
deep  sigh,  and  said  it  ivas  a  glorious  booty. 

When  the  story  of  Cacus  was  read  to  him  out  of  the 
eighth  JEneid  he  generously  pitied  the  unhappy  fate  of 
that  great  man,  to  whom  he  thought  Hercules  much  too 
severe;  one  of  his  schoolfellows  commending  the  dexterity 
of  drawing  the  oxen  backward  by  their  tails  into  his  den, 
he  smiled,  and  with  some  disdain  said.  He  could  have 
taught  him  a  better  way. 

He  was  a  passionate  admirer  of  heroes,  particularly  of 
Alexander  the  Great,  between  whom  and  the  late  King 
of  Sweden  he  would  frequently  draw  parallels.  He  was 
much  delighted  with  the  accounts  of  the  Czar's  retreat 
from  the  latter,  who  carried  off  the  inhabitants  of  great 

•  This  word,  in  the  cant  lantfuage,  bignifies  thievery. 


JONATHAN  WILD.  11 

cities  to  people  his  own  country.  This,  he  said,  was  not 
once  thought  of  by  Alexander;  hut  added,  perhaps  he 
did  not  want  them. 

Happy  had  it  been  for  him  if  he  had  confined  himself 
to  this  sphere;  hut  his  chief,  if  not  only  blemish,  was, 
that  he  would  sometimes,  from  an  humility  in  his  nature 
too  pernicious  to  true  greatness,  condescend  to  an  inti- 
macy with  inferior  things  and  persons.  Thus  the  Span- 
ish Rogue  was  his  favorite  book,  and  the  Cheats  of 
Scapin  his  favorite  play. 

The  young  gentleman  being  now  at  the  age  of  seven- 
teen, his  father,  from  a  foolish  prejudice  to  our  univer- 
sities, and  out  of  a  false  as  w  ell  as  excessive  regard  to 
his  morals,  brought  his  son  to  town,  where  he  resided 
with  him  till  he  was  of  an  age  to  travel.  Whilst  he  was 
here,  all  imaginable  care  was  taken  of  his  instruction, 
his  father  endeavoring  his  utmost  to  inculcate  principles 
of  honor  and  gentility  into  his  son. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

Mr.    Wild's  first  entrance  into  the  world.    His  acquaintance  ivith 
Count  La  Ruse. 

An  accident  happened  soon  after  his  arrival  in  town 
which  almost  saved  the  father  his  whole  labor  on  this 
head,  and  provided  Master  Wild  a  better  tutor  than  any 
after-care  or  expense  could  have  furnished  him  with. 
The  old  gentleman,  it  seems,  was  a  follower  of  the  for- 
tunes of  Mr.  Snap,  son  of  Mr.  Geoffry  Snap,  whom  we 
have  before  mentioned  to  have  enjoyed  a  reputable  office 
under  the  sheriff  of  London  and  Middlesex,  the  daughter 
of  which  Geoffry  had  intermarried  with  the  Wilds.  Mr. 
Snap  the  younger,  being  thereto  well  warranted,  had  laid 
violent  hands  on,  or,  as  the  vulgar  express  it,  arrested 
one  Count  La  Ruse,  a  man  of  considerable  figure  in  those 


12  JONATHAN  WILD. 

days,  and  had  confined  him  to  his  own  house  till  he  could 
find  two  seconds  who  would  in  a  formal  manner  g-ive  their 
words  that  the  count  should,  at  a  a  certain  day  and  place 
appointed,  answer  all  that  one  Thomas  Thimble,  a  tailor, 
had  to  say  to  him  ;  which  Thomas  Thimble,  it  seems,  al- 
leged that  the  count  had,  according-  to  the  law  of  the 
realm,  made  over  his  body  to  him  as  a  security  for  some 
suits  of  clothes  to  him  delivered  by  the  said  Thomas 
Thimble.  Now,  as  the  count,  though  perfectly  a  man  of 
honor,  could  not  immediately  find  these  seconds,  he  was 
obliged  for  some  time  to  reside  at  Mr.  Snap's  house; 
for  it  seems  the  law  of  the  land  is,  that  whoever  owes  an- 
other lOZ.,  or  indeed  21.,  may  be,  on  the  oath  of  that  per- 
son, immediately  taken  up  and  carried  away  from  his  own 
house  and  family,  and  kept  abroad  till  he  is  made  to  owe 
50Z.,  whether  he  will  or  no ;  for  which  he  is  perhaps  after- 
wards obliged  to  lie  in  jail ;  and  all  these  without  any 
trial  hadjor  any  other  evidence  of  the  debt  than  the  above- 
said  oath,  which,  if  untrue,  as  it  often  happens,  you  have 
no  remedy  against  the  perjurer ;  he  was,  forsooth,  mis- 
taken. 

But  though  Mr.  Snap  would  not  (as  perhaps  by  the  nice 
rules  of  honor  he  was  obliged)  discharge  the  count  on  his 
parole,  3'et  did  he  not  (as  by  the  strict  rules  of  law  he  was 
enabled)  confine  him  to  his  chamber.  The  count  had  his 
liberty  of  the  whole  house,  and  Mr.  Snap,  using  only  the 
precaution  of  keeping  his  doors  well  locked  and  barred, 
took  his  prisoner's  word  that  he  would  not  go  forth. 

Mr.  Snap  had  by  his  second  lady  two  daughters,  who 
were  now  in  the  bloom  of  their  youth  and  beauty.  These 
young  ladies,  like  damsels  in  romance,  compassionated 
the  captive  count,  and  endeavored  by  all  means  to  make 
his  confinement  less  irksome  to  him ;  which,  though  they 
were  both  very  beautiful,  they  could  not  attain  by  any 
other  way  so  effectually  as  by  engaging  with  him  at 
cards,  in  which  contentions,  as  will  appear  hereafter,  the 
count  was  greatly  skillful. 


JONATHAN  WILD,  13 

As  whisk  and  swabbers  was  the  game  then  in  the  chief 
vog-ue,  they  were  obliged  to  look  for  a  fourth  person  in 
order  to  make  up  their  parties.  Mr.  Snap  himself  would 
sometimes  relax  his  mind  from  the  violent  fatigues  of  his 
employment  by  these  recreations ;  and  sometimes  a  neigh- 
boring young  gentleman  or  lady  came  in  to  their  assist- 
ance ;  but  the  most  frequent  guest  was  young  Master 
Wild,  who  had  been  educated  from  his  infancy  with  the 
Miss  Snaps,  and  was,  by  all  the  neighbors,  allotted  for 
the  husband  of  Miss  Tishy,  or  Lsetitia,  the  younger  of  the 
two;  for  though,  being  his  cousin-german,  she  was,  per- 
haps, in  the  eye  of  a  strict  conscience,  somewhat  too  nearly 
related  to  him,  yet  the  old  people  on  both  sides,  though 
sufficiently  scrupulous  in  nice  matters,  agreed  to  overlook 
this  objection. 

Men  of  great  genius  as  easily  discover  one  another  as 
free-masons  can.  It  was  therefore  no  wonder  that  the 
count  soon  conceived  an  inclination  to  an  intimacy  with 
our  young  hero,  whose  vast  abilities  could  not  be  con- 
cealed from  one  of  the  count's  discernment,  for  though 
this  latter  was  so  expert  at  his  cards  that  he  was  proverbi- 
ally said  to  play  the  whole  game,  he  was  no  match  for 
Master  Wild,  who,  inexperienced  as  he  was,  notwithstand- 
ing all  the  art,  the  dexterity,  and  often  the  fortune  of  his 
adversary,  never  failed  to  send  him  away  from  the  table 
with  less  in  his  pocket  than  he  brought  to  it,  for  indeed 
Langfanger  himself  could  not  have  extracted  a  purse  with 
more  ingenuity  than  our  young  hero. 

His  hands  made  frequent  visits  to  the  count's  pocket 
before  the  latter  had  entertained  any  suspicion  of  him, 
imputing  the  several  losses  he  sustained  rather  to  the  in- 
nocent and  sprightly  frolic  of  Miss  Doshy,  or  Theodosia, 
with  which,  as  she  indulged  him  with  little  innocent  free- 
doms about  her  person  in  return,  he  thought  himself 
obliged  to  be  contented ;  but  one  night,  when  Wild  im- 
agined the  count  asleep,  he  made  so  unguarded  an  attack 
upon  him,  that  the  other  caught  him  in  the  act ;  however, 


14  JONATHAN   WILD. 

lie  did  not  think  proper  to  acquaint  liiui  with  tlie  discov- 
ery he  had  made,  but,  preventing  him  from  any  booty  at 
that  time,  lie  only  took  care  for  the  future  to  button  his 
pockets,  and  to  pack  the  cards  with  double  industry. 

So  far  was  this  detection  from  causing  any  quarrel 
between  these  two  prigs*,  that  in  reality  it  recommended 
them  to  each  other ;  for  a  wise  man,  that  is  to  say  a 
rogue,  considers  a  trick  in  life  as  a  gamester  doth  a  trick 
at  play.  It  sets  him  on  his  guard,  but  he  admires  the 
dexterity  of  him  who  plays  it.  These,  therefore,  and 
man}'^  other  such  instances  of  ingenuity,  operated  so  vio- 
lently on  the  count,  that,  notwithstanding  the  disparity 
which  age,  title,  and  above  all,  dress,  had  set  between 
them,  he  resolved  to  enter  into  an  acquaintance  with 
Wild.  This  soon  produced  a  perfect  intimacy,  and  that 
a  friendship,  which  had  a  longer  duration  than  is  common 
to  that  passion  between  persons  who  only  propose  to 
themselves  the  common  advantages  of  eating,  drinking, 
whoring,  or  borrowing  money  ;  w'hich  ends,  as  they  soon 
fail,  so  doth  the  friendship  founded  upon  them.  Mutual 
interest,  the  greatest  of  all  purposes,  was  the  cement  of 
this  alliance,  which  nothing,  of  consequence,  but  superior 
interest,  was  capable  of  dissolving. 


CHAPTER  V. 

A  dialogue  between  young  Master  Wild  and  Count  La  Ruse,  which, 
having  extended  to  the  rejoinder,  had  a  very  quiet,  easy  and 
natural  conclusion. 

One  evening,  after  the  Miss  Snaps  were  retired  to  rest, 
the  count  thus  addressed  himself  to  young  Wild  :  "  You 
cannot,  I  apprehend,  Mr.  Wild,  be  such  a  stranger  to 
your  own  great  capacity,  as  to  be  surprised  when  I  tell 
you  I  have  often  viewed  with  a  mixture  of  astonishment 

♦Thieves. 


JONATHAN  WILD.  15 

and  concern,  your  shining  qualities  confined  to  a  sphere 
where  they  can  never  reach  the  eyes  of  tliose  who  would 
introduce  them  properly  into  the  world,  and  raise  you  to 
an  eminence  where  you  may  blaze  out  to  the  admiration 
of  all  men.  I  assure  you  I  am  pleased  with  my  captivity, 
when  I  reflect  I  am  likely  to  owe  to  it  an  acquaintance, 
and  I  hope  friendship,  with  the  greatest  genius  of  my 
age ;  and,  what  is  still  more,  when  I  indulge  my  vanity 
with  a  prospect  of  drawing  from  obscurity  (pardon  the 
expression)  such  talents  as  were,  I  believe,  never  before 
like  to  have  been  buried  in  it ;  for  I  make  no  question  but, 
at  my  discharge  from  confinement,  which  will  now  soon 
happen,  I  shall  be  able  to  introduce  you  into  company, 
where  you  may  reap  the  advantage  of  your  superior 
parts. 

"I  will  bring  you  acquainted,  sir,  with  those  who,  as 
they  are  capable  of  setting  a  true  value  on  such  qualifica- 
tions, so  they  will  have  it  both  in  their  power  and  inclina- 
tion to  prefer  you  for  them.  Such  an  introduction  is  the 
only  advantage  you  want,  without  which  your  merit 
might  be  your  misfortune ;  for  those  abilities  which  would 
entitle  you  to  honor  and  profit  in  a  superior  station  may 
render  you  onl}^  obnoxious  to  danger  and  disgrace  m  a 
lower." 

Mr.  Wild  answered :  ''Sir,  I  am  not  insensible  of  my 
obligations  to  you,  as  well  for  the  overvalue  you  have  set 
on  my  small  abilities,  as  for  the  kindness  you  express  in 
ofi"ering  to  introduce  me  among  my  superiors.  I  must 
own  my  father  hath  often  persuaded  me  to  push  myself 
into  the  company  of  my  betters ;  but,  to  say  the  truth,  I 
have  an  awkward  pride  in  my  nature,  which  is  better 
pleased  with  being  at  the  head  of  the  lowest  class  than  at 
the  bottom  of  the  highest.  Permit  me  to  say,  though  the 
idea  may  be  somewhat  coarse,  I  had  rather  stand  on  the 
summit  of  a  dunghill  than  at  the  bottom  of  a  hill  in  Para- 
dise. I  have  always  thought  it  signifies  little  into  what 
rank  of  life  I  am  thrown,  provided  I  make  a  great  figure 


IG  JONATHAN  WILD. 

therein,  and  should  be  as  well  satisfied  with  exerting  my 
talents  well  at  the  head  of  a  small  party  or  gang-,  as  in 
the  command  of  a  mighty  army;  for  I  am  far  from 
ag-reemg"  witli  you,  that  great  parts  are  often  lost  in  a 
low  situation ;  on  the  contrary,  I  am  convinced  it  is 
impossible  they  should  be  lost.  I  have  oft«n  persuaded 
myself  that  there  were  not  fewer  than  a  thousand  in 
Alexander's  troops  capable  of  performing  what  Alexander 
himself  did. 

"  But,  because  such  spirits  were  not  elected  or  destined 
to  an  imperial  command,  are  we  therefore  to  imagine  they 
came  olT  without  a  booty  ?  or  that  they  contented  them- 
selves with  the  share  in  common  with  their  comrades  ? 
Surel3%  no.  In  civil  life,  douutless,  the  same  genius,  the 
same  endowments,  have  often  composed  the  statesman 
and  the  prig,  for  so  we  call  what  the  vulgar  name  a 
thief.  The  same  parts,  the  same  actions,  often  promote 
men  to  the  head  of  superior  societies,  which  raise  them  to 
the  head  of  lower ;  and  where  is  the  essential  difference 
if  the  one  ends  on  Tower-hill  and  the  other  at  Tyburn  ? 
Hath  the  block  any  preference  to  the  gallows,  or  the  axe 
to  the  halter,  but  was  given  them  by  the  ill-guided  judg- 
ment of  men  ?  You  will  pardon  me,  therefore,  if  I  am 
not  so  hastily  inflamed  with  the  common  outside  of 
things,  nor  join  the  general  opinion  in  preferring  one  state 
to  another.  A  g-uinea  is  as  valuable  in  a  leathern  as  in 
an  embroidered  purse ;  and  a  cod's  head  is  a  cod's  head 
still,  whether  in  a  pewter  or  a  silver  dish." 

The  count  replied  as  follows  :  * '  What  3'ou  have  now  said 
doth  not  lessen  my  idea  of  your  capacit}',  but  confirms  my 
opinion  of  the  ill  effects  of  bad  and  low  company.  Can 
any  man  doubt  whether  it  is  better  to  be  a  great  states- 
man or  a  common  thief  ?  I  have  often  heard  that  the 
devil  used  to  say,  where  or  to  whom  I  know  not,  that  it 
was  better  to  reign  in  Hell  than  to  be  a  valet- de-chambre 
in  Heaven,  and  perhaps  he  was  in  the  right;  but  sure,  if 
he  had  had  the  choice  of  reigning  in  either,  he  would  have 


JONATHAN  WILD.  17 

chosen  better.  The  truth  therefore  is,  that  by  low  con- 
versation we  contract  a  greater  awe  for  high  things  than 
they  deserve.  We  decline  great  pursuits  not  from  con- 
tempt but  despair.  The  man  who  prefers  the  highroad 
to  a  more  reputable  way  of  making  his  fortune,  doth  it 
because  he  imagines  the  one  easier  than  the  other ; 
but  you  yourself  have  asserted,  and  with  undoubted  truth, 
that  the  same  abilities  qualify  you  for  undertaking,  and 
the  same  means  will  bring  you  to  your  end  in  both 
journeys — as  in  music  it  is  the  same  tune,  whether  you 
play  it  in  a  higher  or  a  lower  key.  To  instance  in  some 
particulars  :  is  it  not  the  same  qualification  which  enables 
this  man  to  hire  himself  as  a  servant,  and  to  get  into  the 
confidence  and  secrets  of  his  master  in  order  to  rob  him, 
and  to  undertake  trusts  of  the  highest  nature  with  a 
design  to  break  and  betray  them  ?  Is  it  less  difficult  by 
false  tokens  to  deceive  a  shopkeeper  into  the  delivery  of 
his  goods,  which  you  afterwards  run  away  with,  than  to 
impose  upon  him  by  outward  splendor  and  the  appear- 
ance of  fortune  into  a  credit  \iy  which  you  gain  and  he 
loses  twenty  times  as  much  ?  Doth  it  not  require  more 
dexterity  in  the  fingers  to  draw  out  a  man's  purse  from 
his  pocket,  or  to  take  a  lady's  watch  from  her  side,  with- 
out being  perceived  of  any  (an  excellence  in  which,  with- 
out flattery,  I  am  persuaded  you  have  no  superior),  than 
to  cog  a  die  or  to  shuffle  a  pack  of  cards  ?  Is  not  as 
much  art,  as  many  excellent  quaUties,  required  to  make 
a  pimping  porter  at  a  common  bawdy-house  as  would 
enable  a  man  to  prostitute  his  own  or  his  friend's  wife  or 
child  ?  Doth  it  not  ask  as  good  a  memory,  as  nimble  an 
invention,  as  steady  a  countenance,  to  forswear  yourself 
in  Westminster-hall  as  would  furnish  out  a  complete  fool 
of  state,  or  perhaps  a  statesman  himself  ?  It  is  needless 
to  particularize  every  instance  ;  in  all  we  shall  find  that 
there  is  a  nearer  connection  between  high  and  low  life  than 
is  generally  imagined,  and  that  a  highwayman  is  entitled 
to  more  favor  with  the  great  than  he  usually  meets  with. 


18  JONATHAN  WILD. 

If,  therefore,  as  I  think  I  have  proved,  tlie  same  parts 
which  quahfy  a  man  for  eminence  in  a  low  sphere,  quahfy 
him  likewise  for  eminence  in  a  higlier,  sure  it  can  be  no 
doubt  in  which  lie  would  clioosc  to  exert  tliem.  Ambition, 
without  which  no  one  can  be  a  great  man,  will  immedi- 
ately instruct  him,  in  your  own  phrase,  to  prefer  a  hill  in 
Paradise  to  a  dunirhill ;  nay,  even  fear,  a  passion  the 
most  repugnant  to  greatness,  will  show  him  how  much 
more  safely  he  may  indulge  himself  in  the  free  and  full 
exertion  of  his  mighty  abilities  in  the  higher  than  in  the 
lower  rank  ;  since  experience  teaches  him  that  there  is  a 
crowd  oftener  in  one  year  at  Tj'burn  than  on  Tower-hill 
in  a  century."  Mr.  Wild,  with  much  solemnity  rejoined, 
*'  That  the  same  capacity  wliich  qualifies  a  mill-ken,*  a 
bridle-cull, f  or  a  buttock-and-file,J  to  arrive  at  any 
degree  of  eminence  in  his  profession,  would  likewise  raise 
a  man  in  what  the  world  esteem  a  more  honorable  calling, 
I  do  not  deny  ;  nay,  in  many  of  your  instances  it  is  evi- 
dent that  more  ingenuity,  more  art,  is  necessary  to  the 
lower  than  the  higher  proficients.  If,  therefore,  you  had 
only  contended  that  every  prig  might  be  a  statesman 
if  he  pleased,  I  had  readily  agreed  to  it ;  but  when 
you  conclude  that  it  is  his  interest  to  be  so,  that 
ambition  would  bid  him  take  that  alternative,  in  a  word, 
that  a  statesman  is  greater  or  happier  than  a  prig,  I 
must  deny  my  assent.  But,  in  comparing  these  two  to- 
gether, we  must  carefully  avoid  being  misled  by  the  vul- 
gar erroneous  estimation  of  things,  for  mankind  err  in 
disquisitions  of  this  nature  as  physicians  do  who  in  con- 
sidering the  operations  of  a  disease  have  not  a  due  regard 
to  the  age  and  complexion  of  the  patient.  The  same  de- 
gree of  heat  which  is  common  in  this  constitution  may  be 
a  fever  in  that ;  in  the  same  manner  that  which  may  be 
riches  or  honor  to  me  may  be  poverty  or  disgrace  to 
another ;  for  all  these  things  are  to  be  estimated  by  rela- 

♦  A  housebreaker.  j-  A  highwayman. 

X  A  shoplifter.      Terms  used  in  the  Cant  Dictionary. 


JONATHAN  WILD.  19 

tion  to  the  person  who  possesses  them.  A  boot^'  of  lOZ. 
looks  as  great  in  the  eye  of  a  bridle-cull,  and  gives  as 
much  real  happiness  to  his  fancy,  as  that  of  as  many 
thousands  to  the  statesman ;  and  doth  not  the  former  lay 
out  his  acquisitions  in  whores  and  fiddles  with  much 
greater  joy  and  mirth  than  the  latter  in  palaces  and  pic- 
tures? What  are  the  flattery,  the  false  compliments  of 
his  gang  to  the  statesman,  when  he  himself  must  con- 
demn his  own  blunders,  and  is  obliged  against  his  will  to 
give  fortune  the  whole  honor  of  success  ?  What  is  the 
pride  resulting  from  such  sham  applause,  compared  to 
the  secret  satisfaction  which  a  prig  enjoys  in  his  mind  in 
reflecting  on  a  well-contrived  and  well-executed  scheme  ? 
Perhaps,  indeed,  the  greater  danger  is  on  the  prig's  side ; 
but  then  you  must  remember  that  the  greater  honor  is  so 
too.  When  I  mention  honor,  I  mean  that  which  is  paid 
him  by  his  gang ;  for  that  weak  part  of  the  world  which 
is  vulgarly  called  THE  WISE  see  both  in  a  disadvan- 
tageous and  disgraceful  light;  and  as  the  prig  enjoj^s 
(and  merits  too)  the  greater  degree  of  honor  from  his 
gang,  so  doth  he  suffer  the  less  disgrace  from  the  world, 
who  thinks  his  misdeeds,  as  they  call  them,  sufficiently 
at  last  punished  with  a  halter,  which  at  once  puts  an  end 
to  his  pain  and  infamy ;  whereas  the  other  is  not  only 
hated  in  power,  but  detested  and  condemned  at  the  scaf- 
fold ;  and  future  ages  vent  their  malice  on  his  fame,  while 
the  other  sleeps  quiet  and  forgotten.  Besides,  let  us  a 
little  consider  the  secret  quiet  of  their  conscience ;  how 
easy  is  the  reflection  of  having  taken  a  few  shillings  or 
pounds  from  a  stranger,  without  any  breach  of  confi- 
dence, or  perhaps  any  great  harm  to  the  person  who 
loses  it,  compared  to  that  of  having  betrayed  a  pubUc 
trust,  and  ruined  the  fortunes  of  thousands,  perhaps  of  a 
great  nation !  How  much  braver  is  an  attack  on  the 
highway  than  at  the  gaming-table ;  and  how  much  more 
innocent  the  character  of  a  b — dy-house  than  a  c — t 
pimp!"    He  was  eagerly  proceeding,  when,  casting  his 


20  JONATHAN  WILD. 

eyes  on  the  count,  he  perceived  liim  to  ho  fast  asleep ; 
wherefore,  having  first  picked  his  pocket  of  three  shil- 
lings, then  gently  jogged  him  in  order  to  take  his  leave, 
and  promised  to  return  to  him  the  next  morning  to  break- 
fast, they  separated  ;  the  count  retired  to  rest,  and  Mas- 
ter Wild  to  a  night-cellar. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

Fitrther   conferences    between    the    count    and    Master    Wild,    with 
other  matters  of  the  great  kind. 

The  count  missed  his  money  the  next  morning,  and 
very  well  knew  who  had  it;  but,  as  he  knew  likewise  how 
fruitless  would  be  any  complaint,  he  chose  to  pass  it  by 
without  mentioning  it.  Indeed  it  may  appear  strange  to 
some  readers  that  these  gentlemen,  who  knew  each  other 
to  be  thieves,  should  never  once  give  the  least  hint  of  this 
knowledge  in  all  their  discourse  together,  but,  on  the  con- 
trary, should  have  the  words  honesty,  honor,  and  friend- 
ship as  often  in  their  mouths  as  any  other  man.  This,  I 
say,  may  appear  strange  to  some ;  but  those  who  have 
lived  long  in  cities,  courts,  jails,  or  such  places,  will 
perhaps  be  able  to  solve  the  seeming  absurdity. 

When  our  two  friends  met  the  next  morning  the  count 
(who,  though  he  did  not  agree  with  the  whole  of  his 
friend's  doctrine,  was,  however,  highly  pleased  with  his 
argument)  began  to  bewail  the  misfortune  of  his  captiv- 
ity, and  the  backwardness  of  friends  to  assist  each  other 
in  their  necessities ;  but  what  vexed  him,  he  said,  most, 
was  the  cruelty  of  the  fair  ;  for  he  intrusted  Wild  with 
the  secret  of  his  having  had  an  intrigue  with  Miss  Theo- 
dosia,  the  elder  of  the  Miss  Snaps,  ever  since  his  confine- 
ment, though  he  could  not  prevail  with  her  to  set  him 
at  liberty.  AVild  answered,  with  a  smile,  "It  was  no 
wonder  a  woman  should  wish  to  confine  her  lover  where 


JONATHAN  WILD.  21 

she  might  be  sure  of  having-  him  entirely  to  herself ; " 
but  added,  **  he  believed  he  could  tell  him  a  method  of  cer- 
tainly procuring  his  escape."  The  count  eagerly  besought 
him  to  acquaint  him  with  it.  Wild  told  him  bribery  was 
the  surest  means,  and  advised  him  to  apply  to  the  maid. 
The  count  thanked  him,  but  returned,  "  That  he  had  not 
a  farthing  left  besides  one  guinea,  which  he  had  then 
given  her  to  change."  To  which  Wild  said,  *'He  must 
make  it  up  with  promises,  which  he  supposed  he  was 
courtier  enough  to  know  how  to  put  off."  The  count 
greatly  applauded  the  advice,  and  said  he  hoped  he  should 
be  able  in  time  to  persuade  him  to  condescend  to  be  a 
great  man,  for  which  he  was  so  perfectly  well  qualified. 

This  method  being  concluded  on,  the  two  friends  sat 
down  to  cards,  a  circumstance  which  I  should  not  have 
mentioned  but  for  the  sake  of  observing  the  prodigious 
force  of  habit ;  for  though  the  count  knew  if  he  won  ever 
so  much  of  Mr.  Wild  he  should  not  receive  a  shilling,  yet 
could  he  not  refrain  from  packing  the  cards ;  nor  could 
Wild  keep  his  hands  out  of  his  friend's  pockets,  though 
he  knew  there  was  nothing  in  them. 

When  the  maid  came  home  the  count  began  to  put  it 
to  her ;  offered  her  all  he  had,  and  promised  mountains 
in  futuroj  but  all  in  vain — the  maid's  honesty  was  im- 
pregnable.  She  said,  "  She  would  not  break  her  trust 
for  the  whole  worldj  no,  not  if  she  could  gain  a  hundred 
pound  by  it."  Upon  which  Wild  stepping  up  and  telling 
her  "  She  need  not  fear  losing  her  place,  for  it  would 
never  be  found  out ;  that  they  could  throw  a  pair  of  sheets 
into  the  street,  by  which  it  might  appear  he  got  out  at  a 
window;  that  he  himself  would  swear  he  saw  him  de- 
scending ;  that  the  money  would  be  so  much  gains  in  her 
pocket ;  that,  besides  his  promises,  which  she  might  de- 
pend upon  being  performed,  she  would  receive  from  him 
twenty  shillings  and  ninepence  in  ready  money  (for  she 
had  only  laid  out  threepence  in  plain  Spanish) ;  and  lastlj'^, 
that,  besides  his  honor,  the  count  should  leave  a  pair  of 


2e  JONATHAN  WTLD. 

g-old  buttons  (whicli  afterwards  turned  out  to  be  brass) 
of  great  value  in  her  hands,  as  a  further  pawn." 

The  maid  still  remained  inflexible,  till  Wild  ofTered  to 
lend  his  friend  a  g-uinea  more,  and  to  deposit  it  immedi- 
ately in  her  hands.  This  reinforcement  bore  down  the 
poor  g-irl's  resolution,  and  she  faithfully  promised  to  open 
the  door  to  the  count  that  evening. 

Thus  did  our  young  hero  not  only  lend  his  rhetoric, 
which  few  people  care  to  do  without  a  fee,  but  his  money 
too  (a  sum  which  many  a  good  man  would  have  made 
fifty  excuses  before  he  would  have  parted  with),  to  his 
friend,  and  procured  him  his  libert}'. 

But  it  would  be  highly  derogatory  from  the  great 
character  of  "Wild,  should  the  reader  imagine  he  lent  such 
a  sum  to  a  friend  without  the  least  view  of  serving  him- 
self. As,  therefore,  the  reader  may  account  for  it  in  a 
manner  more  advantageous  to  our  hero's  reputation,  by 
concluding  that  he  had  some  interested  view  in  the  count's 
enlargement,  we  hope  he  will  judge  with  charity,  es- 
pecially as  the  sequel  makes  it  not  only  reasonable  but 
necessary  to  suppose  he  had  some  such  view. 

A  long  intimacy  and  friendship  subsisted  between  the 
count  and  Mr.  Wild,  who,  being  by  the  advice  of  the 
count  dressed  in  good  clothes,  was  by  him  introduced 
into  the  best  company.  They  constantly  frequented  the 
assemblies,  auctions,  gaming-tables,  and  plaj^-houses ;  at 
which  last  they  saw  two  acts  every  night,  and  then  re- 
tired without  paying — this  being,  it  seems,  an  immemo- 
rial privilege  which  the  beaux  of  the  town  prescribe  for 
to  themselves.  This,  however,  did  not  suit  "Wild's  temper, 
who  called  it  a  cheat,  and  objected  against  it  as  requiring 
no  dexterity,  but  what  every  blockhead  might  put  in  ex- 
ecution. He  said  it  was  a  custom  very  much  savoring  of 
the  sneaking-budge  *,  but  neither  so  honorable  nor  so  in- 
genious. 

"Wild  now  made  a  considerable  figure,  and  passed  for 

*  Shoplifting. 


JONATHAN  WILD,  23 

a  gentleman  of  great  fortune  in  the  funds.  Women  of 
quality  treated  him  with  great  familiarity,  young  ladies 
began  to  spread  their  charms  for  him,  when  an  accident 
happened  that  put  a  stop  to  his  continuance  in  a  way  of 
life  too  insipid  and  inactive  to  afford  employment  for 
those  great  talents  which  were  designed  to  make  a 
much  more  considerable  figure  in  the  world  than  attends 
the  character  of  a  beau  or  a  pretty  gentleman. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

Master  Wild  sets  out  on  his  travels,  and  returns  home  again.  A 
very  short  chapter,  containing  infinitely  more  time  and  less  mat- 
ter than  any  other  in  the  whole  story. 

We  are  sorry  we  cannot  indulge  our  reader's  curiosity 
with  a  full  and  perfect  account  of  this  accident ;  but  as 
there  are  such  various  accounts,  one  of  which  only  can  be 
true,  and  possibly  and  indeed  probably  none;  instead  of 
following  the  general  method  of  historians,  who  in  such 
cases  set  down  the  various  reports,  and  leave  to  your  own 
conjecture  which  you  will  choose,  we  shall  pass  them  all 
over. 

Certain  it  is  that,  whatever  this  accident  was,  it  deter- 
mined our  hero's  father  to  send  his  son  immediately 
abroad  for  seven  years ;  and,  which  may  seem  somewhat 
remarkable,  to  his  majesty's  plantations  in  America — 
that  part  of  the  world  being,  as  he  said,  freer  from  vices 
than  the  courts  and  cities  of  Europe,  and  consequently 
less  dangerous  to  corrupt  a  young  man's  morals.  And 
as  for  the  advantages,  the  old  gentleman  thought  they 
were  equal  there  with  those  attained  in  the  politer 
chmates;  for  traveling,  he  said,  was  traveling  in  one 
part  of  the  world  as  well  as  another ;  it  consisted  in  being 
such  a  time  from  home,  and  in  traversing  so  many 
leagues ;  and  appealed  to  experience  whether  most  of  our 


24  JONATHAN  WILD. 

travelers  in  France  and  Italy  did  not  prove  at  their 
return  that  they  mig-lit  have  been  sent  as  jjrofltably  to 
Norway  and  Greenland. 

According  to  these  resolutions  of  his  father,  the  young- 
gentleman  went  aboard  a  ship,  and  with  a  great  deal  of 
good  company  set  out  for  the  American  hemisphere.  The 
exact  time  of  his  stay  is  somewhat  uncertain ;  most  prob- 
ably longer  than  was  intended.  But  howsoever  long 
his  abode  there  was,  it  must  be  a  blank  in  this  history,  as 
the  whole  story  contains  not  one  adventure  worthy  the 
reader's  notice ;  being  indeed  a  continued  scene  of  whor- 
ing, drinking,  and  removing  from  one  place  to  another. 

To  confess  a  truth,  we  are  so  ashamed  of  the  shortness 
of  this  chapter,  that  we  should  have  done  a  violence  to  our 
historj'',  and  have  inserted  an  adventure  or  two  of  some 
other  traveler ;  to  which  purpose  we  borrowed  the  jour- 
nals of  several  young  gentlemen  who  have  lately  made 
the  tour  of  Europe  ;  but  to  our  great  sorrow,  could  not 
extract  a  single  incident  strong  enough  to  justify  the 
theft  to  our  conscience. 

When  we  consider  the  ridiculous  figure  this  chapter 
must  make,  being  the  history  of  no  less  than  eight  years, 
our  only  comfort  is,  that  the  histories  of  some  men's  lives, 
and  perhaps  of  some  men  who  have  made  a  noise  in  the 
world,  are  in  reality  as  absolute  blanks  as  the  travels  of  our 
hero.  As,  therefore,  we  shall  make  sufficient  amends  in 
the  sequel  for  this  inanit}^  we  shall  hasten  on  to  matters 
of  true  importance  and  immense  greatness.  At  present 
we  content  ourselves  with  setting  down  our  hero  where 
we  took  him  up,  after  acquainting  our  reader  that  he 
went  abroad,  stayed  seven  years,  and  then  came  home 
again. 


JONATHAN  WILD.  25 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

An  adventure  where  Wild,  in  the  division  of  the  booty,  exhibits  an 
astonishing  instance  of  greatness. 

The  count  was  one  nig-ht  very  successful  at  the  hazard- 
table,  where  Wild,  who  was  just  returned  from  his 
travels,  was  then  present ;  as  was  likewise  a  young-  gen- 
tleman whose  name  was  Bob  Bagshot,  an  acquaintance 
of  Mr.  Wild's,  and  of  whom  he  entertained  a  g"reat  opinion; 
taking-,  therefore,  Mr.  Bagshot  aside,  he  advised  him  to 
prepare  himself  (if  he  had  not  them  about  him)  with  a 
pair  of  pistols,  and  to  attack  the  count  on  his  way  home, 
promising  to  plant  himself  near  with  the  same  arms,  as  a 
corps  de  reserve,  and  to  come  up  on  occasion.  This  was 
accordingly  executed,  and  the  count  obliged  to  surrender 
to  savage  force  what  he  had  in  so  genteel  and  civil  a 
manner  taken  at  play. 

And  as  it  is  a  wise  and  philosophical  observation,  that 
one  misfortune  never  comes  alone,  the  count  had  hardly 
passed  the  examination  of  Mr.  Bagshot  when  he  fell  into 
the  hands  of  Mr.  Snap,  who,  in  company  with  Mr.  Wild 
the  elder,  and  one  or  two  more  gentlemen,  being,  it  seems, 
thereto  well  warranted,  laid  hold  of  the  unfortunate  count, 
and  conveyed  him  back  to  the  same  house  from  which, 
by  the  assistance  of  his  good  friend,  he  had  formerly  es- 
caped. 

Mr.  Wild  and  Mr,  Bagshot  went  together  to  the  tavern, 
where  Mr.  Bagshot  (generously  as  he  thought)  offered  to 
share  the  booty,  and  having  divided  the  money  into  two 
unequal  heaps,  and  added  a  golden  snuff-box  to  the  lesser 
heap,  he  desired  Mr.  Wild  to  take  his  choice. 

Mr.  Wild  immediately  conveyed  the  larger  share  of  the 
ready  into  his  pocket,  according  to  an  excellent  maxim  of 
his,  "First  secure  what  share  you  can  before  you  wrangle 
for  the  rest;'*    and  then,  turning  to  his  companion,  he 


26  JONATHAN    WILD. 

asked  with  a  stern  countenance  whether  he  intended  to 
keep  all  that  sum  to  himself  ?  Mr.  Bag-shot  aiiswered, 
with  some  surprise,  that  he  thought  Mr.  Wild  had  no 
reason  to  complain  ;  for  it  was  surely  fair,  at  least  on  his 
part,  to  content  liimself  with  an  equal  share  of  the  bootj-, 
who  had  taken  the  whole.  ''I  g-rant  you  took  it,"  re- 
plied Wild,  "but,  praj',  who  proposed  or  counseled  the 
taking-  it  ?  Can  you  say  that  you  have  done  more  than 
executed  mj''  scheme  ?  and  might  not  I,  if  I  had  pleased, 
have  employed  another,  since  you  well  know  there  was 
not  a  gentleman  in  the  room  but  would  have  taken  the 
money  if  he  had  known  how  conveniently  and  safely  to 
doit?" — "That  is  very  true,"  returned  Bagshot,  "but 
did  not  I  execute  the  scheme,  did  not  I  run  the  whole  risk  ? 
Should  not  I  have  suflered  the  whole  punishment  if  I  had 
been  taken,  and  is  not  the  laborer  worthy  of  his  hire?" — 
"  Doubtless,"  says  Jonathan,  "he  is  so,  and  your  hire  I 
shall  not  refuse  you,  which  is  all  that  the  laborer  is  en- 
titled to  or  ever  enjoys.  I  remember  when  I  was  at 
school  to  have  heard  some  verses  which  for  the  excellence 
of  their  doctrine  made  an  impression  on  me,  purporting- 
that  the  birds  of  the  air  and  the  beasts  of  the  field  work 
not  for  themselves.  It  is  true,  the  farmer  allows  fodder 
to  his  oxen  and  pasture  to  his  sheep ;  but  it  is  for  his  own 
service,  not  theirs.  In  the  same  manner  the  ploug-hman, 
the  shepherd,  the  weaver,  the  builder,  and  the  soldier, 
work  not  for  themselves  but  others  ;  t\\(iy  are  contented 
with  a  poor  pittance  (the  laborer's  hire),  and  permit  us, 
the  GREAT,  to  enjoy  the  fruit  of  their  labors.  Aris- 
totle, as  my  master  told  us,  hath  plahily  proved,  in  the 
first  book  of  his  pohtics,  that  the  low,  mean,  useful  part 
of  mankind,  are  born  slaves  to  the  will  of  their  superiors, 
and  are  indeed  as  much  their  property  as  the  cattle.  It 
is  well  said  of  us,  the  higher  order  of  mortals,  that  we  are 
born  only  to  devour  the  fruits  of  the  earth,  and  it  may  be 
as  well  said  of  the  lower  class,  that  they  are  born  only  to 
produce  them  for  us.  Is  not  the  battle  g-ained  by  the  sweat 


JONATHAN  WILD.  27 

and  danger  of  the  common  soldier  ?  Are  not  the  honor 
and  fruits  of  the  victory  the  general's  who  laid  the  scheme  ? 
Is  not  the  house  built  by  the  labor  of  the  carpenter  and 
the  bricklayer  ?  Is  it  not  built  for  the  profit  only  of  the 
architect  and  for  the  use  of  the  inhabitant,  who  could  not 
easily  have  placed  one  brick  upon  another  ?  Is  not  the 
cloth  or  the  silk  wrought  into  its  form  and  variegated 
with  all  the  beauty  of  colors  by  those  who  are  forced  to 
content  themselves  with  the  coarsest  and  vilest  part  of 
their  work,  while  the  profit  and  enjoyment  of  their  labors 
fall  to  the  share  of  others  ?  Cast  your  eye  abroad,  and 
see  who  is  it  lives  in  the  most  magnificent  buildings, 
feasts  his  palate  with  the  most  luxurious  dainties,  his 
eyes  with  the  most  beautiful  sculptures  and  delicate 
paintings,  and  clothes  himself  in  the  finest  and  richest 
apparel ;  and  tell  me  if  all  these  do  not  fall  to  his  lot  who 
had  not  any  the  least  share  in  producing  all  these  con- 
veniences, nor  the  least  ability  so  to  do  ?  Why  then 
should  the  state  of  a  prig*  differ  from  all  others  ?  Or 
why  should  you,  who  are  the  laborer  only,  the  executor 
of  my  scheme,  expect  a  share  in  the  profit  ?  Be  advised, 
therefore ;  deliver  the  whole  booty  to  me,  and  trust  to 
m}'-  bounty  for  your  reward."  Mr.  Bagshot  was  some 
time  silent,  and  looked  like  a  man  thunderstruck,  but  at 
last,  recovering  himself  from  his  surprise,  he  thus  began : 
*'If  you  think,  Mr.  Wild,  by  the  force  of  your  arguments, 
to  get  the  money  out  of  my  pocket,  you  are  greatly  mis- 
taken. What  is  all  this  stuff  to  me  ?  D — n  me,  I  am  a 
man  of  honor,  and,  though  I  can't  talk  as  well  as  you, 

by  G you  shall  not  make  a  fool  of  me  ;  and  if  you  take 

me  for  one,  I  must  tell  you  you  are  a  rascal."  At  which 
words  he  laid  his  hand  to  his  pistol.  Wild,  perceiving 
the  little  success  the  great  strength  of  his  arguments  had 
met  with,  and  the  hasty  temper  of  his  friend,  gave* over 
his  design  for  the  present,  and  told  Bagshot  he  was  only 
in  jest.     But  this  coolness  with  which  he  treated  the 

*  A  thief. 


28  JONATHAN   WILD. 

other's  flame  had  rather  the  effect  of  oil  than  of  water. 
Bagshot  replied  in  a  rage,  "D — n  me,  I  don't  like  such 
jests;  I  see  you  are  a  pitiful  rascal  and  a  scoundrel." 
Wild,  with  a  philosophy  worthy  of  great  admiration,  re- 
turned, "  As  for  your  abuse,  I  have  no  regard  to  it ;  but, 
to  convince  you  I  am  not  afraid  of  3'ou,  let  us  lay  the 
whole  booty  on  the  table,  and  let  the  conqueror  take  it 
all."  And  having  so  said,  he  drew  out  his  shinmg 
hanger,  whose  glittering  so  dazzled  the  eyes  of  Bagshot, 
that,  in  tone  entirely  altered,  he  said,  "  No  !  he  was  con- 
tented with  what  he  had  already ;  that  it  was  mighty 
ridiculous  in  them  to  quarrel  among  themselves ;  that 
they  had  common  enemies  enough  abroad,  against  whom 
they  should  unite  their  common  force ;  that  if  he  had  mis- 
taken Wild  he  was  sorry  for  it ;  and  as  for  a  jest,  he 
could  take  a  jest  as  well  as  another."  Wild,  who  had  a 
wonderful  knack  of  discovering  and  applying  to  the  pas- 
sions of  men,  beginning  now  to  have  a  little  insight  into 
his  friend,  and  to  conceive  what  arguments  would  make 
the  quickest  impression  on  him,  cried  out  in  a  loud  voice, 
"  That  he  had  bullied  him  into  drawling  his  hanger,  and, 
since  it  was  out,  he  would  not  put  it  up  without  satisfac- 
tion."— '*  What  satisfaction  would  3'ou  have  ?"  answered 
the  other. — "  Your  money  or  your  blood,"  said  Wild. — 
* 'Why,  look  ye,  Mr.  Wild,"  said  Bagshot,  "if  you  want 
to  borrow  a  little  of  my  part,  since  I  know  3'ou  to  be  a 
man  of  honor,  I  don't  care  if  I  lend  you  ;  for,  though  I  am 
not  afraid  of  any  man  living,  yet  rather  than  break  with 
with  a  friend,  and  as  it  may  be  necessary  for  your  occa- 
sions  "     Wild,   who  often    declared  that  he  looked 

upon  borrowing  to  be  as  good  a  way  of  taking  as  any, 
and,  as  he  called  it,  the  genteelest  kind  of  sneaking-budge, 
putting  up  his  hanger,  and  shaking  his  friend  by  the  hand, 
told  him  he  had  hit  the  nail  on  the  head  ;  it  was  really 
his  present  necessity  onl}'  that  prevailed  with  him  against 
his  will,  for  that  his  honor  was  concerned  to  pay  a  con- 
siderable sum  the  next  morning.     Upon  whicli,  contenting 


JONATHAN  WILD.  29 

himself  with  one  half  of  Bag-shot's  share,  so  that  he  had 
three  parts  in  four  of  the  whole,  he  took  leave  of  his  com- 
panion and  retired  to  rest. 


CHAPTER  IX. 

Wild  pays  a  visit  to  Miss  Lcetitia  Snap.  A  description  of  that 
lovely  young  creature,  and  the  successless  issue  of  Mr.  Wild's 
addresses. 

The  next  morning-  when  our  hero  waked  he  beg-an  to 
think  of  paying"  a  visit  to  Miss  Tishy  Snap,  a  woman  of 
g-reat  merit  and  of  as  g-reat  g-enerosity ;  yet  Mr.  Wild 
found  a  present  was  ever  most  welcome  to  her,  as  being-  a 
token  of  respect  in  her  lover.  He  therefore  went  directly 
to  a  toy-shop,  and  there  purchased  a  g-enteel  snuff-box, 
with  which  he  waited  upon  his  mistress,  whom  he  found 
in  the  most  beautiful  undress.  Her  lovely  hair  hung- 
wantonly  over  her  forehead,  being-  neither  white  with,  nor 
yet  free  from,  powder ;  a  neat  double  clout,  which  seemed 
to  have  been  worn  a  few  weeks  only,  was  pinned  under 
her  chin ;  some  remains  of  that  art  with  which  ladies 
improve  nature  shone  on  her  cheeks ;  her  body  was 
loosely  attired,  without  stays  or  jumps,  so  that  her 
breasts  had  uncontrolled  liberty  to  display  their  beauteous 
orbs,  which  they  did  as  low  as  her  girdle  ;  a  thin  cover- 
ing of  a  rumpled  muslin  handkerchief  almost  hid  them 
from  the  eyes,  save  in  a  few  parts,  where  a  good-natured 
hole  gave  opportunity  to  the  naked  breast  to  appear. 
Her  gown  was  a  satin  of  a  whitish  color,  with  about  a 
dozen  little  silver  spots  u]3on  it,  so  artificially  interwoven 
at  great  distance,  that  they  looked  as  if  they  had  fallen 
there  by  chance.  This,  flying  open,  discovered  a  fine 
yellow  petticoat,  beautifully  edged  round  the  bottom  with 
a  narrow  piece  of  half  gold  lace,  which  was  now  almost 
become  fringe  ;  beneath  this  appeared  another  petticoat 


80  JONATHAN  WILD. 

stiffened  with  whalebone,  vulgarly  called  a  hoop,  which 
hung"  six  inches  at  least  below  the  other  ;  and  under  this 
again  appeared  an  undergarment  of  that  color  which 
Ovid  intends  wlieii  he  says, 

Qui  color  albus  erat  nunc  est  contrarius  albo. 

She  likewise  displayed  two  pretty  feet  covered  with  silk 
and  adorned  with  lace,  and  tied,  the  right  with  a  hand- 
some piece  of  blue  ribbon  ;  the  left,  as  more  unworthy, 
with  a  piece  of  j-ellow  stuff,  which  seemed  to  have  been 
a  strip  of  her  upper  petticoat.  Such  was  the  lovely 
creature  whom  Mr.  Wild  attended.  She  received  him  at 
first  with  some  of  that  coldness  which  women  of  strict 
virtue,  by  a  commendable  though  sometimes  painful 
restraint,  enjoin  themselves  to  their  lovers.  The  snuff- 
box, being  produced,  was  at  first  civilly,  and  indeed 
gently  refused ;  but  on  a  second  application  accepted. 
The  tea-table  was  soon  called  for,  at  which  a  discourse 
passed  between  these  j'^oung  lovers,  which,  could  we 
set  it  down  with  any  accuracy,  would  be  very 
edifying  as  well  as  entertaining  to  our  reader ;  let  it 
suffice  then  that  the  wit,  together  with  the  beaut}', 
of  this  young  creature  so  inflamed  the  passion  of 
Wild,  which,  though  an  honorable  sort  of  a  passion, 
was  at  the  same  time  so  extremely  violent,  that  it  trans- 
ported him  to  freedoms  too  offensive  to  the  nice  chastity 
of  LkCtitia,  who  was,  to  confess  the  truth,  more  indebted 
to  her  own  strength  for  the  preservation  of  her  virtue 
than  to  the  awful  respect  or  backwardness  of  her  lover  ; 
he  was  indeed  so  very  urgent  in  his  addresses,  that,  had 
he  not  with  many  oaths  promised  her  marriage,  we  could 
scarce  have  been  strictly  justified  in  calling  his  passion 
honorable ;  but  he  was  so  remarkably  attached  to 
decency,  that  he  never  offered  any  violence  to  a  young 
lady  without  the  most  earnest  promises  of  that  kind,  these 
being,  he  said,  a  ceremonial  due  to  female  modesty,  which 
cost  so  little,  and  were  so  easily  pronounced,  that  the 
omission  could  arise  from  nothing  but  the  mere  wanton- 


JONATHAN  WILD.  31 

mess  of  brutality.  The  lovely  Lsetitia,  either  out  of  pru- 
dence, or  perhaps  religion,  of  which  she  was  a  liberal 
professor,  was  deaf  to  all  his  promises,  and  luckily  invinc- 
ible to  his  force ;  for,  thoug-h  she  had  not  yet  learned 
the  art  of  well  clenching-  her  fist,  nature  had  not  however 
left  her  defenseless,  for  at  the  ends  of  her  fingers  she 
wore  arms,  which  she  used  with  such  admirable  dexterity, 
that  the  hot  blood  of  Mr.  Wild  soon  began  to  appear  in 
several  little  spots  on  his  face,  and  his  full-blown  cheeks 
to  resemble  that  part  which  modesty  forbids  a  boy  to 
turn  up  anywhere  but  in  a  public  school,  after  some 
pedagogue,  strong  of  arm,  hath  exercised  his  talents 
thereon.  Wild  now  retreated  from  the  conflict,  and  the 
victorious  Lsetitia,  with  becoming  triumph  and  noble 
spirit  cried  out,  "  D — n  your  eyes,  if  this  be  your  way  of 
showing  your  love,  I'll  warrant  I  gives  you  enough  on't." 
She  then  proceeded  to  talk  of  her  virtue,  which  Wild  bid 
her  carry  to  the  devil  with  her,  and  thus  our  lovers 
parted. 


CHAPTER  X. 

A  discovery  of  some  matters  concerning  the  chaste  Lcetitia  which  must 
wonderfully  surprise,  and  perhaps  affect  our  reader, 

Mr.  Wild  was  no  sooner  departed  than  the  fair  con- 
queress,  opening  the  door  of  a  closet,  called  forth  a  young 
gentleman  whom  she  had  there  enclosed  at  the  approach 
of  the  other.  The  name  of  this  gallant  was  Tom  Smirk, 
He  was  clerk  to  an  attorney,  and  was  indeed  the  greatest 
beau  and  the  greatest  favorite  of  the  ladies  at  the  end  of 
the  town  where  he  lived.  As  we  take  dress  to  be  the 
characteristic  or  efficient  quality  of  a  beau,  we  shall,  in- 
stead of  givmg  any  character  of  this  young  gentleman, 
content  ourselves  with  describing  his  dress  only  to  our 
readers.     He  wore,  then,  a  pair  of  white  stockings  on  his 


32  JONATHAN  WILD. 

leg's,  and  pumps  on  his  feet ;  his  buckles  Mere  a  large 
piece  of  pinchbeck  plate,  which  almost  covered  his  whole 
foot.  His  breeches  were  of  red  plush,  which  hardly 
reached  his  knees;  his  waistcoat  was  a  white  dimity, 
richl}"  embroidered  with  yellow  silk,  over  which  he  wore 
a  blue  plush  coat  with  metal  buttons,  a  smart  sleeve,  with 
a  cape  reaching-  half-way  down  his  back.  His  wig-  was 
of  a  brown  color,  covering-  almost  half  his  pate,  on  which 
was  hung  on  one  side  a  little  laced  hat,  but  cocked  with 
great  smartness.  Such  was  the  accomplished  Smirk, 
who,  at  his  issuing-  forth  from  the  closet,  was  received 
\\ith  open  arms  by  the  amiable  Lretitia.  She  addressed 
him  by  the  tender  name  of  dear  Tommy,  and  told  him  she 
had  dismissed  the  odious  creature  whom  her  father  in- 
tended for  her  husband,  and  had  now  nothing  to  inter- 
rupt her  happiness  with  him. 

Here,  reader,  thou  must  pardon  us  if  we  stop  a  while 
to  lament  the  capriciousness  of  Nature  in  forming-  this 
charming-  part  of  the  creation  designed  to  complete  the 
happiness  of  man  ;  with  their  soft  innocence  to  allay  his 
ferocit}',  with  their  sprightliness  to  soothe  his  cares,  and 
with  their  constant  friendship  to  relieve  all  the  troubles 
and  disappointments  which  can  happen  to  him.  Seeing 
then  that  these  are  the  blessings  chiefly  soug-ht  after  and 
generally  found  in  every  wife,  how  must  we  lament  that 
disposition  in  these  lovely  creatures  which  leads  them  to 
prefer  in  their  favor  those  individuals  of  the  other  sex 
who  do  not  seem  intended  by  nature  as  so  great  a  mas- 
terpiece !  For  surely,  however  useful  they  may  be  in  the 
creation,  as  we  are  taught  that  nothing,  not  even  a  louse, 
is  made  in  vain,  yet  these  beaux,  even  that  most  splendid 
and  honored  part  which  in  this  our  island  nature  loves  to 
distinguish  in  red,  are  not,  as  some  think,  the  noblest 
work  of  the  Creator.  For  my  own  part,  let  any  man 
choose  to  himself  two  beaux,  let  them  be  captains  or  colo- 
nels, as  well-dressed  men  as  ever  lived,  I  would  venture 
to  oppose  a  single  Sir  Isaac  Newton,  a  Shakespeare,  a  Mil- 


JONATHAN  WILD.  33 

ton,  or  perhaps  some  few  others,  to  both  these  beaux ; 
nay,  and  I  very  much  doubt  whether  it  had  not  been  bet- 
ter for  the  world  in  general  that  neither  of  these  beaux 
had  ever  been  born  than  that  it  should  have  wanted  the 
benefit  arising  to  it  from  the  labor  of  any  one  of  those 
persons. 

If  this  be  true,  how  melancholy  must  be  the  considera- 
tion that  any  single  beau,  especially  if  he  have  but  half  a 
yard  of  ribbon  in  his  hat,  shall  weigh  heavier  in  the  scale 
of  female  affection  than  twenty  Sir  Isaac  Newtons  !  How 
must  our  reader,  who  perhaps  has  wisely  accounted  for 
the  resistance  which  the  chaste  Leetitia  had  made  to  the 
violent  addresses  of  the  ravished  (or  rather  ravishing) 
Wild  from  that  lady's  impregnable  virtue — how  must  he 
blush,  I  say,  to  perceive  her  quit  the  strictness  of  her  car- 
riage, and  abandon  herself  to  those  loose  freedoms  which 
she  indulged  to  Smirk  !  But  alas  !  when  we  discover  all, 
as  to  preserve  the  fidelity  of  our  history  we  must,  when 
we  relate  that  every  familiarity  had  passed  between 
them,  and  that  the  fair  Lgetitia  (for  we  must,  in  this  sin- 
gle instance,  imitate  Virgil  when  he  drops  the  pius  and 
the  pater,  and  drop  our  favorite  epithet  of  chaste),  the 
FAIR  Lgetitia  had,  I  say,  made  Smirk  as  happy  as  Wild 
desired  to  be,  what  must  then  be  our  reader's  confusion  ! 
We  will,  therefore,  draw  a  curtain  over  this  scene,  from 
that  philogyny  which  is  in  us,  and  proceed  to  matters 
which,  instead  of  dishonoring  the  human  species,  will 
greatly  raise  and  ennoble  it. 


CHAPTER  XI. 

Containing  as  notable  instances  of  human  greatness  as  are  to  be 
met  with  in  ancient  or  modern  history.  Concluding  with  some 
wholesome  hints  to  the  gay  part  of  mankind. 

Wild  no  sooner  parted  from  the  chaste  Laetitia  than, 
recollecting  that  his  friend  the  count  was  returned  to  his 
lodgings  in  the  same  house,  he  resolved  to  visit  him ;  for 


34  JONATHAN  WILD. 

he  was  none  of  those  half-bred  fellows  who  are  ashamed 
to  see  their  friends  when  they  have  plundered  and 
betrayed  them ;  from  which  base  and  pitiful  temper 
many  monstrous  cruelties  have  been  transacted  by  men, 
who  have  sometimes  carried  their  modesty  so  far  as  to  the 
murder  or  utter  ruin  of  those  against  whom  their  con- 
sciences have  suggested  to  them  that  they  have  com- 
mitted some  small  trespass,  either  b}'  the  debauching  of  a 
friend's  wife  or  daughter,  belling  or  betraying  the  friend 
himself,  or  some  other  such  trifling  instance.  In  our  hero 
there  was  nothing  not  truly  great ;  he  could,  without  the 
least  abashment,  drink  a  bottle  with  the  man  who  knew 
he  had  the  moment  before  picked  his  pocket ;  and,  when 
he  had  stripped  him  of  everything  he  had,  never  desired 
to  do  him  any  further  mischief ;  for  he  carried  good- 
nature to  that  wonderful  and  uncommon  height  that  he 
never  did  a  single  injury  to  man  or  woman  by  which  he 
himself  did  not  expect  to  reap  some  advantage.  He 
would  often  indeed  say  that  by  the  contrary  party  men 
often  made  a  bad  bargain  with  the  devil,  and  did  his  work 
for  nothing. 

Our  hero  found  the  captive  count,  not  basely  lamenting 
his  fate  nor  abandoning  himself  to  despair,  but,  with  due 
resignation,  employing  himself  in  preparing  several  packs 
of  cards  for  future  exploits.  The  count,  little  suspecting 
that  Wild  had  been  the  sole  contriver  of  the  misfortune 
which  had  befallen  him,  rose  up  and  eagerly  embraced 
him  ;  and  Wild  returned  his  embrace  with  equal  warmth. 
The}'  were  no  sooner  seated  than  Wild  took  an  occasion, 
from  seeing  the  cards  lying  on  the  table,  to  inveigh 
against  gaming,  and,  with  an  usual  and  highly  commend- 
able freedom,  aft^r  first  exaggerating  the  distressed  cir- 
cumstances in  Avhich  the  count  was  then  involved,  im- 
puted all  his  misfortunes  to  that  cursed  itch  of  play 
which,  he  said,  he  concluded  had  brought  his  present 
confinement  upon  him,  and  must  unavoidably  end  in  his 
destruction.     The  other,  with  great  alacrity,   defended 


JONATHAN  WILD.  35 

his  favorite  amusement  (or  rather  employment),  and, 
having  told  his  friend  the  great  success  he  had  after  his 
unluckily  quitting  the  room,  acquainted  him  with  the  acci- 
dent which  followed,  and  which  the  reader,  as  well  as 
Mr.  Wild,  hath  had  some  intimation  of  before;  adding, 
however,  one  circumstance  not  hitherto  mentioned,  viz.: 
that  he  had  defended  his  money  with  the  utmost  bravery, 
and  had  dangerously  wounded  at  least  two  of  the  three 
men  that  had  attacked  him.  This  behavior  Wild,  who 
not  only  knew  the  extreme  readiness  with  which  the 
booty  had  been  delivered,  but  also  the  constant  frigidity 
of  the  count's  courage,  highly  applauded,  and  wished  he 
had  been  present  to  assist  him.  The  count  then  pro- 
ceeded to  animadvert  on  the  carelessness  of  the  watch, 
and  the  scandal  it  was  to  the  laws  that  honest  people 
could  not  walk  the  streets  in  safety ;  and,  after  expatiat- 
ing some  time  on  that  subject,  he  asked  Mr.  Wild  if  he 
ever  saw  so  prodigious  a  run  of  luck  (for  so  he  chose  to 
call  his  winning,  though  he  knew  Wild  was  well 
acquainted  with  his  having  loaded  dice  in  his  pocket). 
The  other  answered  it  was  indeed  prodigious,  and  almost 
suflScient  to  justify  any  person  who  did  not  know  him 
better  in  suspecting  his  fair  play.  "  No  man,  I  beUeve, 
dares  call  that  in  question,"  replied  he.  "No,  surely," 
says  Wild  ;  "  you  are  well  known  to  be  a  man  of  more 
honor ;  but  pray  sir,"  continued  he,  "  did  the  rascals  rob 
you  of  all  ?"  "  Every  shilling,"  cries  the  other,  with  an 
oath ;  '*  they  did  not  leave  me  a  single  stake."  t 

While  they  were  thus  discoursing,  Mr.  Snap,  with  a 
gentleman  who  followed  him,  introduced  Mr,  Bagshot 
into  the  company.  It  seems  Mr.  Bagshot,  immediately 
after  his  separation  from  Mr.  Wild,  returned  to  the  gam- 
ing-table, where,  having  trusted  to  fortune  that  treasure 
which  he  had  procured  by  his  industry,  the  faithless  god- 
dess committed  a  breach  of  trust,  and  sent  Mr.  Bagshot 
away  with  as  empty  pockets  as  are  to  be  found  in  any 
laced  coat  in  the  kingdom.    Now,  as  that  gentleman  was 


36  JONATHAN  WILD. 

walking  to  a  certain  reputable  house  or  shed  in  Covent- 
g-arden  market  he  fortuned  to  meet  with  Mr.  Snap,  who 
had  just  returned  from  conveying-  the  count  to  his  lodg- 
mgs,  and  was  then  walking-  to  and  fro  before  theg-aming- 
house  door ;  for  you  are  to  know,  my  good  reader,  if  you 
have  never  been  a  man  of  wit  and  pleasure  about  town, 
that  as  the  voracious  pike  lieth  snug  under  some  weed 
before  the  mouth  of  any  of  those  little  streams  which  dis- 
charge themselves  into  a  large  river,  waiting  for  the 
small  fry  which  issue  thereout,  so  hourl^^  before  the  door 
or  mouth  of  these  gaming-houses,  doth  Mr.  Snap,  or  some 
other  gentleman  of  his  occupation,  attend  the  issuing 
forth  of  the  small  fry  of  j'oung  gentlemen,  to  whom  they 
deliver  little  slips  of  parchment,  containing  invitations  of 
the  said  gentlemen  to  their  houses,  together  with  one  Mr. 
John  Doe,*  a  person  whose  company  is  in  great  request. 
Mr.  Snap,  among  many  others  of  these  billets  happened 
to  have  one  directed  to  Mr.  Bagshot,  being  at  the  suit  or 
solicitation  of  one  Mrs.  Anne  Sample,  spinster,  at  whose 
house  the  said  Bagshot  had  lodged  several  months,  and 
whence  he  had  inadvertently  departed  without  taking  a 
formal  leave,  on  which  account  Mrs.  Anne  had  taken  this 
method  of  speaking  with  him 

Mr.  Snap's  house  being  now  very  full  of  good  company, 
he  w^as  obliged  to  introduce  Mr.  Bagshot  into  the  count's 
apartment,  it  being,  as  he  said,  the  only  chamber  he  had 
to  lock  tip  in.  Mr.  Wild  no  sooner  saw  his  friend  than  he 
ran  eagerly  to  embrace  him,  and  immediatel}'  presented 
him  to  the  count,  who  received  him  with  great  civility. 

*  This  IS  a  fictitious  name  which  is  put  into  every  writ;  for  what  purpose  the 
lawyers  best  know. 


JONATHAN  WILD, 


CHAPTER  XII. 

Further  particulars  relating  to  Miss  Tishy,  ivhich  perhaps  may  not 
greatly  surprise  after  the  former.  The  description  of  a  very 
fine  gentleman,  and  a  dialogue  between  Wild  and  the  count,  in 
which  public  virtue  is  just  hinted  at,  with,  etc. 

Mr.  Snap  had  turned  the  key  a  very  few  minutes  before 
a  servant  of  the  family  called  Mr.  Bagshot  out  of  the 
room,  telling-  him  there  was  a  person  below  who  desired 
to  speak  with  him  ;  and  this  was  no  other  than  Miss 
Laetitia  Snap,  whose  admirer  Mr.  Bagshot  had  long  been, 
and  in  whose  tender  breast  his  passion  had  raised  a  more 
ardent  flame  than  that  which  any  of  his  rivals  had  been 
able  to  raise.  Indeed,  she  was  so  extremely  fond  of  this 
youth  that  she  often  confessed  to  her  female  confidants,  if 
she  could  ever  have  listened  to  the  thought  of  living  with 
any  one  man,  Mr.  Bagshot  was  he.  Nor  was  she  singu- 
lar in  this  inclination,  many  other  young  ladies  being  her 
rivals  in  this  lover,  who  had  all  the  great  and  noble  quali- 
fications necessary  to  form  a  true  gallant,  and  which  na- 
ture is  seldom  so  extremely  bountiful  as  to  indulge  to  any 
one  person.  We  will  endeavor,  however,  to  describe 
them  all  with  as  much  exactness  as  possible.  He  was  then 
six  feet  high,  had  large  calves,  broad  shoulders,  a  ruddy 
complexion,  with  brown  curled  hair,  a  modest  assurance, 
and  clean  linen.  He  had  indeed,  it  must  be  confessed, 
some  small  deficiencies  to  counterbalance  these  heroic 
quahties,  for  he  was  the  silliest  fellow  in  the  world,  could 
neither  write  nor  read,  nor  had  he  a  single  grain  or  spark 
of  honor,  honesty,  or  good-nature  m  his  whole  composi- 
tion. 

As  soon  as  Mr.  Bagshot  had  quitted  the  room,  the 
count,  taking  Wild  by  the  hand,  told  him  he  had  some- 
thing to  communicate  to  him  of  very  great  importance. 


38  JONATJIAX   WILD. 

"I  am  very  well  convinced,''  said  lie,  'Hliat  Bagshot  is 
the  person  who  robbed  me."  Wild  started  with  great 
amazement  at  this  discovery,  and  answered,  with  a  most 
serious  countenance,  "  I  advise  you  to  take  care  how  you 
cast  any  such  reflections  on  a  man  of  Mr.  Bagshot's  nice 
honor,  for  I  am  certain  he  will  not  bear  it."  "  D — n  his 
honor  I "  quoth  the  enraged  count ;  "  nor  can  I  bear  being 
robbed  ;  I  will  apply  to  a  justice  of  peace."  Wild  replied 
with  great  indignation,  ''Since  you  dare  entertain  such 
a  suspicion  against  my  friend  I  will  henceforth  disclaim 
all  acquaintance  with  you.  Mr.  Bagshot  is  a  man  of 
honor  and  my  friend,  and  consequently  it  is  impossible  he 
should  be  guilty  of  a  bad  action."  He  added  much  more 
to  the  same  purpose,  which  had  not  the  expected  weight 
with  the  count ;  for  the  latter  seemed  still  certain  as  to 
the  person,  and  resolute  in  apjilying  for  justice,  which,  he 
said,  he  thought  he  owed  to  the  public  as  well  as  to  him- 
self. Wild  then  changed  his  countenance  into  a  kind  of 
derision,  and  spoke  as  follows:  "  Suppose  it  should  be  pos- 
sible that  Mr.  Bagshot  had,  in  a  frolic  (for  I  will  call  it 
no  other),  taken  this  method  of  borrowing  your  money, 
what  will  you  get  by  prosecuting  him  ?  Not  your  money 
again,  for  you  hear  he  was  stripped  at  the  gaming- 
table "  (of  which  Bagshot  had  during  their  short  confab- 
ulation informed  them) ;  you  will  get  then  an  opportunity 
of  being  still  more  out  of  pocket  by  the  prosecution.  An- 
other advantage  you  may  promise  yourself  is  the  being 
blown  up  at  every  gaming-house  in  town,  for  that  I  will 
assure  you  of;  and  then  much  good  may  it  do  you  to  sit 
down  with  the  satisfaction  of  having  discharged  what  it 
seems  you  owe  the  public.  I  am  ashamed  of  my  own  dis- 
cernment when  I  mistook  you  for  a  great  man.  Would 
it  not  be  better  for  you  to  receive  part  (perhaps  all)  of 
your  money  again  by  a  wise  concealment?  for,  however 
seedy*  Mr.  Bagshot  may  be  now,  if  he  hath  really  played 
this  frolic  with  you,  you  may  believe  he  will  play  it  with 

*  Poor. 


JONATHAN  WILD.  39 

others,  and  when  he  is  in  cash  you  may  depend  on  a 
restoration;  the  law  will  be  always  in  your  power,  and 
that  is  the  last  remedy  which  a  brave  or  a  wise  man 
would  resort  to.  Leave  the  affair  therefore  to  me ;  I  will 
examine  Bagshot,  and,  if  I  find  he  hath  played  you  this 
trick,  I  will  engage  my  own  honor  you  shall  in  the  end 
be  no  loser."  The  count  answered,  "  If  I  was  sure  to  be 
no  loser,  Mr.  "Wild,  I  apprehend  you  have  a  better  opin- 
ion of  my  understanding  than  to  imagine  I  would  prose- 
cute a  gentleman  for  the  sake  of  the  public.  These  are 
foolish  words,  of  course,  which  we  learn  a  ridiculous 
habit  of  speaking,  and  will  often  break  from  us  without 
any  design  or  meaning.  I  assure  you,  all  I  desire  is  a 
reimbursement ;  and  if  I  can  by  your  means  obtain  that, 

the  public  may  ;  "  concluding  with  a  phrase  too 

coarse  to  be  inserted  in  a  history  of  this  kind. 

They  were  now  informed  that  dinner  was  ready,  and 
the  company  assembled  below  stairs,  whither  the  reader 
maj^,  if  he  please,  attend  these  gentlemen. 

There  sat  down  at  the  table  Mr.  Snap  and  the  two  Miss 
Snaps,  his  daughters,  Mr.  WUd  the  elder,  Mr.  Wild  the 
younger,  the  count,  Mr.  Bagshot,  and  a  grave  gentleman 
who  had  formerly  had  the  honor  of  carrying  arms  in  a 
regiment  of  foot,  and  who  was  now  engaged  in  the 
ofiB.ce  (perhaps  a  more  profitable  one)  of  assisting  or  fol- 
lowing Mr.  Snap  in  the  execution  of  the  laws  of  his  coun- 
try. 

Nothing  very  remarkable  passed  at  dinner.  The  con- 
versation (as  is  usual  in  polite  company)  rolled  chiefly  on 
what  they  were  then  eating  and  what  they  had  lately 
eaten.  In  this  the  military  gentleman,  who  had  served 
in  Ireland,  gave  them  a  very  particular  account  of  a  new 
manner  of  roasting  potatoes,  and  others  gave  an  account 
of  other  dishes.  In  short,  an  indifferent  bystander  would 
have  concluded  from  their  discourse  that  they  had  all 
come  into  this  world  for  no  other  purpose  than  to  fill  their 
bellies;  and  indeed,  if  this  was  not  the  chief,  it  is  probable 


40  JONATHAN  WILD. 

it  Avas  the  most   innocent   desig-n   Nature  had  in  their 
formation. 

As  soon  as  the  dish  was  removed,  and  the  ladies  re- 
tired, the  count  proposed  a  game  at  hazard,  which  was 
immediately  assented  to  by  the  whole  company,  and,  the 
dice  being"  immediately  brought  in,  the  count  took  up  the 
box  and  demanded  who  would  set  him  ;  to  which  no  one 
made  any  answer,  imagining"  perhaps  the  count's  pockets 
to  be  more  empty  than  they  were ;  for,  in  reaUty,  that 
gentleman  (notwithstanding"  what  he  had  heartily  swore 
to  Mr.  Wild)  had,  since  his  arrival  at  Mr.  Snap's,  con- 
veyed a  piece  of  plate  to  pawn,  by  which  means  he  had 
furnished  himself  with  ten  guineas.  The  count,  there- 
f ore,perceiving"  this  backwardness  in  his  friends,  and  prob- 
ably somewhat  guessing"  at  the  cause  of  it,  took  the  said 
guineas  out  of  his  pocket,  and  threw  them  on  the  table ; 
when  lo  !  (such  is  the  force  of  example)  all  the  rest  began 
to  produce  their  funds,  and  immediately,  a  considerable 
sum  g-littering  in  their  eyes,  the  g-ame  began. 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

A  chapter  of  which  tee  are  extremely  vain,  and  which  indeed  we  look 
onascnir  chef-d'oeuvre;  containing  a  tvonderful  story  concerning 
the  devil,  and  as  nice  a  scene  of  honor  as  ever  happened. 

My  reader,  I  believe,  even  if  he  be  a  gamester,  would  not 
thank  me  for  an  exact  relation  of  every  man's  success  ; 
let  it  suffice  then  that  they  played  till  the  whole  money 
vanished  from  the  table.  Whether  the  devil  himself  car- 
ried it  away,  as  some  suspected,  I  will  not  determine ;  but 
very  surprising"  it  was  that  every  person  protested  he  had 
lost,  nor  could  anyone  guess  who,  unless  the  devily  had 
won. 

But  though  very  probable  it  is  that  this  arch  fiend  had 
some  share  in  the  booty,  it  is  likely  he  had  not  all;  Mr. 


JONATHAN  WILD.  41 

Bagshot  being-  imagined  to  be  a  considerable  winner,  not- 
withstanding Ms  assertions  to  the  contrary ;  for  he  was 
seen  by  several  to  convey  money  often  into  his  pocket ; 
and  what  is  still  a  little  stronger  presumption  is,  that  the 
g-rave  g-entleman  whom  we  have  mentioned  to  have  served 
his  country  in  two  honorable  capacities,  not  being  willing' 
to  trust  alone  to  the  evidence  of  his  eyes,  had  frequently 
dived  into  the  said  Bagshot's  pocket,  whence  (as  he  tells 
us  in  the  apology  for  his  life,  afterwards  published  )* 
though  he  might  extract  a  few  pieces,  he  was  very  sensi- 
ble he  had  left  many  behind.  The  gentleman  had  long- 
mdulged  his  curiosity  in  this  way  before  Mr.  Bagshot,  in 
the  heat  of  gaming,  had  perceived  him  ;  but,  as  Bagshot 
was  now  leaving  off  play,  he  discovered  this  ingenious 
feat  of  dexterity ;  upon  which,  leaping  up  from  his  chair 
in  violent  passion,  he  cried  out,  "  I  thought  I  had  been 
among  gentlemen  and  men  of  honor,  but  d — n  me,  I  find 
we  have  a  pickpocket  in  company."  The  scandalous 
sound  of  this  word  extremely  alarmed  the  w^hole  board, 

nor  did  they  all  show  less  surprise  than  the  Con n 

(whose  not  sitting-  of  late  is  much  lamented)  would  ex- 
press  at  hearing  there  was  an  atheist  in  the  room ;  but  it 
more  particularly  affected  the  gentleman  at  whom  it  was 
levelled,  though  it  was  not  addressed  to  him.  He  like- 
wise started  from  his  chair,  and,  with  a  fierce  countenance 
and  accent,  said,  "Do  you  mean  me?  D — n  your  eyes, 
you  are  a  rascal  and  a  scoundrel !  "  Those  words  would 
have  been  immediately  succeeded  by  blows  had  not  the 
company  interposed,  and  with  strong  arm  withheld  the 
two  antagonists  from  each  other.  It  was,  however,  a 
long  time  before  they  could  be  prevailed  on  to  sit  down ; 
which  being  at  last  happily  brought  about,  Mr.  Wild,  the 
elder,  who  was  a  well-disposed  old  man,  advised  them  to 
shake  hands  and  be  friends  ;  but  the  gentleman  who  had 

♦  Not  in  a  book  by  itself,  in  imitation  of  some  other  such  persons,  but  in  the  or- 
dinary's account,  etc..  where  all  the  apolog'ies  for  the  lives  of  rogues  and  whores 
"which  have  )>een  published  within  these  twenty  years  should  have  been  inserted. 


42  JONATHAN   WILD. 

received  the  first  affront  absolutely  refused  it,  and  swore 
he  would  have  the  villain  s  blood.  Mr.  Snap  hig'hly  ap- 
plauded the  resolution,  and  aihrnied  that  the  afTront  was 
by  no  means  to  be  put  up  b^'  any  who  bore  the  name  of  a 
gentleman,  and  that  unless  his  friend  resented  it  properly 
he  would  never  execute  another  warrant  in  his  company ; 
that  he  had  always  looked  upon  him  as  a  man  of  honor, 
and  doubted  not  but  he  would  prove  himself  so  ;  and  that, 
if  it  was  his  own  case,  nothing  should  persuade  him  to 
put  up  such  an  affront  without  proper  satisfaction.  The 
count  likewise  spoke  on  the  same  side,  and  the  parties 
themselves  muttered  several  short  sentences  purporting 
their  intentions.  At  last  Mr.  Wild,  our  hero,  rising  slow- 
ly from  his  seat,  and  having  fixed  the  attention  of  all 
present,  began«as  follows:  "I  have  heard  with  infinite 
pleasure  everything  which  the  two  gentlemen  who  spoke 
last  have  said  with  relation  to  honor,  nor  can  any  man 
possibly  entertain  a  higher  and  nobler  sense  of  that  word, 
nor  a  greater  esteem  of  its  inestimable  value  than  myself. 
If  we  have  no  name  to  express  it  by  in  our  Cant  Diction- 
ary, it  were  well  to  be  wished  we  had.  It  is  indeed  the 
essential  quality  of  a  gentleman,  and  which  no  man  who 
ever  was  great  in  the  field  or  on  the  road  (as  others  ex- 
press it)  can  possibly  be  without.  But  alas  !  gentlemen, 
what  pity  is  it  that  a  word  of  such  sovereign  use  and  vir- 
tue should  have  so  uncertain  and  various  an  application 
that  scarce  two  people  mean  the  same  thing  by  it.  Do 
not  some  by  honor  mean  good-nature  and  humanity, 
which  weak  minds  call  virtues  ?  How  then  !  Must  we 
deny  it  to  the  great,  the  brave,  the  noble ;  to  the  Backers 
of  towns,  the  plunderers  of  provinces,  and  the  conquerors 
of  kingdoms  ?  Were  not  these  men  of  honor  ?  and  yet 
they  scorn  those  pitiful  qualities  I  have  mentioned.  Again, 
some  few  (or  I  mistake)  include  the  idea  of  honesty  in 
their  honor.  And  shall  we  then  sa3''  that  no  man  who 
withholds  from  another  what  law,  or  justice  perhaps, 
calls  his  own,  or  who  greatly  and  boldly  deprives  him  of 


JONATHAN   WILD.  43 

sucti  property,  is  a  man  of  honor  ?  Heaven  forbid  I  should 
say  so  in  this,  or,  indeed,  in  any  other  good  company  !  Is 
honor  truth  ?  No  ;  it  is  not  in  the  lies  going  from  us,  but 
in  its  coming  to  us,  our  honor  is  injured.  Doth  it  then 
consist  in  what  the  vulgar  call  cardinal  virtues  ?  It  would 
be  an  affront  to  your  understandings  to  suppose  it,  since 
we  see  every  day  so  many  men  of  honor  without  any.  In 
what  then  doth  the  word  honor  consist  ?  Why,  in  itself 
alone.  A  man  of  honor  is  he  that  is  called  a  man  of 
honer ;  and  while  he  is  so  called  he  so  remains,  and  no 
longer.  Think  not  anything  a  man  commits  can  forfeit 
his  honor.  Look  abroad  into  the  world ;  the  prig,  while 
he  flourishes,  is  a  man  of  honor  ;  when  in  jail,  at  the  bar, 
or  the  tree,  he  is  so  no  longer.  And  why  is  this  distinc- 
tion ?  Not  from  his  actions ;  for  those  are  often  as  well 
known  in  his  flourishing  estate  as  they  are  afterwards  ; 
but  because  men,  I  mean  those  of  his  own  party  or  gang, 
call  him  a  man  of  honor  in  the  former,  and  cease  to  call 
him  so  in  the  latter  condition.  Let  us  see  then ;  how  hath 
Mr.  Bagshot  injured  the  gentleman's  honor  ?  Why,  he 
hath  called  him  a  pickpocket ;  and  that,  probably,  by  a 
severe  construction  and  a  long  roundabout  way  of  reason- 
ing, may  seem  a  little  to  derogate  from  his  honor,  if  con- 
sidered in  a  very  nice  sense.  Admitting  it,  therefore,  for 
argument's  sake,  to  be  some  small  imputation  on  his  hon- 
or, let  Mr.  Bagshot  give  him  satisfaction ;  let  him  doubly 
and  triply  repair  this  oblique  injury  by  directly  asserting 
that  he  believes  he  is  a  man  of  honor."  The  gentleman 
answered  he  was  content  to  refer  it  to  Mr.  Wild,  and 
whatever  satisfaction  he  thought  sufficient  he  would  ac- 
cept. "  Let  him  give  me  my  money  again  first,"  said 
Bagshot,  "  and  then  I  will  call  him  a  man  of  honor  with 
all  my  heart."  The  gentleman  then  protested  he  had  not 
any,  which  Snap  seconded,  declaring  he  had  his  eyes  on 
him  all  the  while ;  but  Bagshot  remained  still  unsatisfied, 
till  Wild,  rapping  out  a  hearty  oath,  swore  he  had  not 
taken  a  single  farthing,  adding  that  whoever  asserted  the 


44  JONATHAN  WILD, 

contrary  gave  liim  tlie  lio,  and  lie  would  resent  it. 
And  now,  sucli  was  the  ascendancy  of  this  great  man, 
that  Bagshot  immediately  acquiesced,  and  performed  the 
ceremonies  requii-ed ;  and  thus,  by  the  exquisite  address 
of  our  hero,  this  quarrel,  which  had  so  fatal  an  aspect, 
and  which  between  two  persons  so  extremely'  jealous  ol 
their  honor  would  most  certainly  have  produced  very 
dreadful  conse(iuences,  was  happily  concluded. 

Mr.  Wild  was  indeed  a  little  interested  in  this  affair,  as 
he  himself  had  set  the  gentleman  to  work,  and  had 
received  the  greatest  part  of  the  booty;  and  as  to  Mr. 
Snap's  deposition  in  his  favor,  it  was  the  usual  height  to 
which  the  ardor  of  that  worthy  person's  friendship  too 
frequently  hurried  him.  It  was  his  constant  maxim  that 
he  was  a  pitiful  fellow  who  would  stick  at  a  little  rapping* 
for  his  friend. 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

In  which  the  history  o/geeatness  is  continued. 

Matters  being  thus  reconciled,  and  the  gaming  over, 
from  reasons  before  hinted,  the  company  proceeded  to 
drink  about  with  the  utmost  cheerfulness  and  friendship; 
drinking  healths,  shaking  hands,  and  professing  the  most 
perfect  affection  for  each  other.  All  which  were  not  in 
the  least  interrupted  by  some  designs  which  they  then 
agitated  in  their  minds,  and  which  they  intended  to  exe- 
cute as  soon  as  the  liquor  had  prevailed  over  some  of  their 
understandings,  Bagshot  and  the  gentlemen  intending  to 
rob  each  other ;  Mr.  Snap  and  Mr.  Wild  the  elder  medi- 
tating what  other  creditors  they  could  find  out  to  charge 
the  gentlemen  then  in  custody  with ;  the  count  hoping  to 
renew  the  play,  and  Wild,  our  hero,  laying  a  design  to 
put  Bagshot  out  of  the  way,  or,  as  the  vulgar  express  it, 

*Rapping  is  a  cant  word  for  perjury. 


I 


JONATHAN   WILD.  45 

to  hang"  him  with  the  first  opportunity.  But  none  of 
these  great  designs  could  at  present  be  put  in  execution, 
for  Mr.  Snap  being-  soon  after  summoned  abroad  on  busi- 
ness of  great  moment,  which  required  likewise  the  assist- 
ance of  Mr.  Wild  the  elder  and  his  other  friend,  and  as  he 
did  not  care  to  trust  to  the  nimbleness  of  the  count's 
heels,  of  which  he  had  already  had  some  experience,  he 
declared  he  must  lock  up  for  that  evening.  Here,  reader, 
if  thou  pleasest,  as  we  are  in  no  great  haste,  we  will  stop 
and  make  a  simile.  As  when  their  lap  is  finished,  the 
cautious  huntsman  to  their  kennel  gathers  the  nimble- 
footed  hounds,  they  with  lank  ears  and  tails  slouch  sul- 
lenly on,  whilst  he,  with  his  whippers-in,  follow  close  to 
their  heels,  regardless  of  their  dogged  humor,  till,  having 
seen  them  safe  within  the  door,  he  turns  the  key,  and 
then  retires  to  whatever  business  or  pleasure  calls  him 
thence;  so  with  lowering  countenance  and  reluctant  steps 
mounted  the  count  and  Bagshot  to  their  chamber,  or 
rather  kennel,  whither  they  were  attended  by  Snap  and 
those  who  followed  him,  and  where  Snap,  having  seen 
them  deposited,  very  contentedly  locked  the  door  and 
departed.  And  now,  reader,  we  will,  in  imitation  of  the 
truly  laudable  custom  of  the  world,  leave  these  our  good 
friends  to  deliver  themselves  as  they  can,  and  pursue  the 
thriving  fortunes  of  Wild,  our  hero,  who,  with  that  great 
aversion  to  satisfaction  and  content  which  is  inseparably 
incident  to  great  minds,  began  to  enlarge  his  views  with 
his  prosperity;  for  this  restless,  amiable  disposition,  this 
noble  avidity  which  increases  witn  feeding,  is  the  first 
principle  or  constituent  quality  of  these  our  great  men ;  to 
whom,  in  their  passage  on  to  greatness,  it  happens  as  to  a 
traveler  over  the  Alps,  or,  if  this  be  a  too  far-fetched  simile, 
to  one  who  travels  westvv^ard  over  the  hills  near  Bath,  where 
the  simile  was  indeed  made.  He  sees  not  the  end  of  his 
journey  at  once ;  but,  passing  on  from  scheme  to  scheme, 
and  from  hill  to  hill,  with  noble  constancy,  resolving  still 
to  attain  the  summit  on  which  he  hath  fixed  his  eye,  how- 


46  JONATHAN  WILD. 

ever  dirty  the  roads  may  be  through  which  he  struggles, 

he  at  length  arrives at  some  vile  inn,  where  he  finds  no 

kind  of  entertainment  nor  convcniency  for  repose.  I 
fancy,  reader,  if  thou  hast  ever  traveled  in  these  roads, 
one  part  of  my  simile  is  sufficiently  apparent  (and,  indeed, 
in  all  these  illustrations,  one  side  is  generally  much  more 
apparent  than  the  other);  but,  believe  me,  if  the  other 
doth  not  so  evidently  appear  to  thy  satisfaction,  it  is  from 
no  other  reason  than  because  thou  art  unacquainted  with 
these  great  men,  and  hast  not  had  sufficient  instruction, 
leisure,  or  opportunity,  to  consider  what  happens  to  those 
who  pursue  what  is  generally  understood  by  greatness  ; 
for  surely,  if  thou  hadst  animadverted,  not  only  on  the 
many  perils  to  which  great  men  are  daily  liable  while 
they  are  in  their  progress,  but  hadst  discerned,  as  it  were 
through  a  microscope  (for  it  is  invisible  to  the  naked  eye), 
that  diminutive  speck  of  happiness  which  they  attain  even 
in  the  consummation  of  their  wishes,  thou  wouldst  lament 
with  me  the  unhappy  fate  of  these  great  men,  on  whom 
nature  hath  set  so  superior  a  mark,  that  the  rest  of  man- 
kind are  born  for  their  use  and  emolument  only  and  be 
apt  to  cry  out,  "  It  is  a  pity  that  those  for  whose  pleas- 
ure and  profit  mankind  are  to  labor  and  sweat,  to  be 
hacked  and  hewed,  to  be  pillaged,  plundered,  and  every 
way  destroyed,  should  reap  so  little  advantage  from  all 
the  miseries  they  occasion  to  others."  For  my  part,  I 
own  myself  of  that  humble  kind  of  mortals  who  consider 
themselves  born  for  the  behoof  of  some  great  man  or 
other,  and  could  I  behold  his  happiness  carved  out  of  the 
labor  and  ruin  of  a  thousand  such  reptiles  as  myself,  I 
might  with  satisfaction  exclaim,  ^zc,  sicjuvat:  but  when 
I  behold  one  great  man  starving  with  hunger  and  freez- 
ing with  cold,  in  the  midst  of  fifty  thousand  who  are  suf- 
fering the  same  evils  for  his  diversion ;  when  I  see 
another,  whose  own  mind  is  a  more  abject  slave  to  his 
own  greatness,  and  is  more  tortured  and  racked  by  it  than 
th.ose  of  all  his  vassals ;  lastly,  when  I  consider  whole 


JONATHAN  WILD.  47 

nations  rooted  out  only  to  bring-  tears  into  the  eyes 
of  a  great  man,  not,  indeed,  because  he  hath  ex- 
tirpated so  many,  but  because  he  had  no  more  nations 
to  extirpate,  then  truly  I  am  almost  inclined  to 
wish  that  nature  had  spared  us  this  her  masterpiece, 
and  that  no  great  man  had  ever  been  born  into  the 
world. 

But  to  proceed  with  our  history,  which  will,  we  hope, 
produce  much  better  lessons,  and  more  instructive,  than 
any  we  can  preach.  Wild  was  no  sooner  retired  to  a 
night-cellar  than  he  began  to  reflect  on  the  sweets  he  had 
that  day  enjoyed  from  the  labors  of  others,  viz.,  first 
from  Mr.  Bagshot,  who  had  for  his  use  robbed  the  count; 
and,  secondly,  from  the  gentleman,  who,  for  the  same 
good  purpose,  had  picked  the  pocket  of  Bagshot.  He 
then  proceeded  to  reason  thus  with  himself  "  The  art  of 
policy  is  the  art  of  multiplication,  the  deg-rees  of  great- 
ness bemg  constituted  by  those  two  little  words  more  and 
less.  Mankind  are  first  properly  to  be  considered  under 
two  grand  divisions,  those  that  use  their  own  hands,  and 
those  who  employ  the  hands  of  others.  The  former  are 
the  base  and  rabble;  the  latter,  the  g-enteel  part  of  the 
creation.  The  mercantile  part  of  the  world,  therefore, 
wisely  use  the  term  employing  hands,  and  justly  prefer 
each  other  as  they  employ  more  or  fewer:  for  thus  one 
merchant  says  he  is  g-reater  than  another  because  he 
employs  more  hands.  And  now  indeed  the  merchant 
should  seem  to  challenge  some  character  of  greatness, 
did  we  not  necessarily  come  to  a  second  division,  viz.  of 
those  who  employ  hands  for  the  use  of  the  community  in 
which  they  live,  and  of  those  who  employ  hands  merely 
for  their  own  use,  without  any  regard  to  the  benefit  of 
society.  Of  the  former  sort  are  the  j^eoman,  the  manu- 
facturer, the  merchant,  and  perhaps  theg-entleman.  The 
first  of  these  being-  to  manure  and  cultivate  his  native 
soil,  and  to  employ  hands  to  produce  the  fruits  of  the  earth. 
The  second  being  to  improve  them  by  employing-  hands 


48  JONATHAN   WILD. 

likewise,  and  to  produce  from  tliein  those  useful  com- 
modities which  serve  as  well  for  the  conveniences  as 
necessaries  of  life.  The  tliird  is  to  employ  hands  for  the 
exportation  of  the  redundance  of  our  own  commodities, 
and  to  exchange  them  with  the  redundances  of  foreign 
nations,  and  thus  every  soil  and  every  climat<3  may  en- 
joy the  fruits  of  the  whole  earth.  The  gentleman  is,  by 
employing  hands,  likewise  to  embellish  his  country  with 
the  improvement  of  arts  and  sciences,  with  the  making 
and  executing  good  and  wholesome  laws  for  the  preserva- 
tion of  property''  and  the  distribution  of  justice,  and  in 
several  other  manners  to  be  useful  to  society.  Now  we 
come  to  the  second  part  of  this  division;  viz.  of  those 
w^ho  employ  hands  for  their  own  use  only:  and  this  is 
that  noble  and  great  part  who  are  generally  distinguished 
into  conquerors,  absolute  princes,  statesmen,  and  prigs* 
Now  all  these  differ  from  each  other  in  greatness  only — 
\hey  employ  more  or /e^f;er  hands.  And  Alexander  the 
Great  was  only  greater  than  a  captain  of  one  of  the  Tar- 
tarian or  Arabian  hordes,  as  he  w^as  at  the  head  of  a 
larger  number.  In  w^hatthen  is  a  single  prig  inferior  to 
any  other  great  man,  but  because  he  employs  his 
hands  only;  for  he  is  not  on  that  account  to  be  levelled 
with  the  base  and  vulgar,  because  he  employ's  his 
hands  for  his  own  use  only.  Now^,  suppose  a  prig  had  as 
many  tools  as  any  prime  minister  ever  had,  would  he  not 
be  as  great  as  any  prime  minister  whatsoever  ?  Un- 
doubtedl}'-  he  would.  What  then  have  I  to  do  in  the  pur- 
suit of  greatness  but  to  procure  a  gang,  and  to  make  the 
use  of  this  gang  centre  in  myself  ?  This  gang  shall  rob 
for  me  only,  recei^'ing  very  moderate  rewards  for  their 
actions;  out  of  this  gang  I  will  prefer  to  my  favor  the 
boldest  and  most  iniquitous  (as  the  vulgar  express  it); 
the  rest  I  will,  from  time  to  time,  as  I  see  occasion,  trans- 
port and  hang  at  my  pleasure;  and  thus  (which  I  take 
to  be  the  highest  excellence  of  a  prig)  convert  those  laws 

•  Thievea. 


JONATHAN  WILD,  49 

wMcti  are  made  for  tlie  benefit  and  protection  of  society 
to  my  single  use." 

Having  thus  preconceived  his  scheme,  he  saw  nothing" 
wanting  to  put  it  in  immediate  execution  but  that  which 
is  mdeed  the  beginnmg  as  well  as  the  end  of  all  human 
devices:  I  mean  money.  Of  which  commodity  he  was 
possessed  of  no  more  than  sixty-five  guineas,  being  all 
that  remained  from  the  double  benefits  he  had  made  of 
Bagshot,  and  which  did  not  seem  sufficient  to  furnish  his 
house,  and  every  other  convenience  necessary  for  so  grand 
an  undertaking.  He  resolved,  therefore,  to  go  immedi- 
to  the  gaming  house,  which  was  then  sitting,  not  so  much 
with  an  intention  of  trusting  to  fortune  as  to  play  the 
surer  card  of  attacking  the  winner  in  his  way  home.  On 
his  arrival,  however,  he  thought  he  might  as  well  try  his 
success  at  the  dice,  and  reserve  the  other  resource  as  his 
last  expedient.  He  accordingly  sat  down  to  play;  and  as 
Fortune,  no  more  than  others  of  her  sex,  is  observed  to 
distribute  her  favors  with  strict  regard  to  great  mental 
endowments  so  our  hero  lost  every  farthing  in  his  pocket. 
This  loss  however  he  bore  with  great  constancy  of  mind, 
and  with  as  great  composure  of  aspect.  To  say  truth, 
he  considered  the  money  as  only  lent  for  a  short  time,  or 
rather  indeed  as  deposited  with  a  banker.  He  then  re- 
solved to  have  immediate  recourse  to  his  surer  strategem; 
and,  casting  his  eyes  round  the  room,  he  soon  perceived 
a  gentleman  sitting  in  a  disconsolate  posture,  who  seemed 
a  proper  instrument  or  tool  for  his  purpose.  In  short 
(to  be  as  concise  as  possible  in  these  least  shining  parts 
of  our  history),  Wild  accosted  this  man,  sounded  him, 
found  him  fit  to  execute,  proposed  the  matter,  received  a 
ready  assent,  and,  having  fixed  on  the  person  who  seemed 
that  evening  the  greatest  favorite  of  fortune,  they  posted 
themselves  in  the  most  proper  place  to  surprise  the  ene- 
my as  he  was  retiring  to  his  quarters,  where  he  was  soon 
attacked,  subdued,  and  plundered;  but  indeed  of  no  con- 
siderable bootj^;  for  it  seems  this  gentleman  played  on  a 


50 


JONATHAN  WILD. 


common  stock,  and  had  deposited  liis  winnings  at  the 
scene  of  action,  nor  had  he  any  more  than  two  shillings 
in  his  pocket  when  he  was  attacked. 

This  was  so  cruel  a  disappomtment  to  Wild,  and  so 
sensibly  afTects  us,  as  no  doubt  it  will  the  reader,  that, 
as  it  must  disqualify  us  both  from  proceeding-  any 
farther  at  present,  we  will  now  take  a  little  breath,  and 
therefore  we  shall  here  close  this  book. 


JONATHAN  WILD.  51 


BOOK  II. 


CHAPTER  I. 

Characters  of  silly  people,  with  the  proper  uses  for  which  such  are 

designed. 

One  reason  why  we  chose  to  end  our  first  book,  as  we 
did,  witli  the  last  chapter,  was,  that  we  are  now  obliged 
to  produce  two  characters  of  a  stamp  entirely  different 
from  what  we  have  hitherto  dealt  in.  These  persons  are 
of  that  pitiful  order  of  mortals  who  are  in  contempt  called 
good-natured ;  being-  indeed  sent  into  the  world  by  na- 
ture with  the  same  design  with  which  men  put  little  fish 
into  a  pike-pond  in  order  to  be  devoured  by  that  voracious 
water-hero. 

But  to  proceed  with  our  history:  Wild,  having  shared 
the  booty  in  much  the  same  manner  as  before,  i.  e.,  taken 
three-fourths  of  it,  amounting  to  eighteen-pence,  was  now 
retiring  to  rest,  in  no  very  happy  mood,  when  by  accident 
he  met  with  a  young  fellow  who  had  formerly  been  his 
companion,  and  indeed  intimate  friend,  at  school.  It 
hath  been  thought  that  friendship  is  usually  nursed  by 
similitude  of  manners,  but  the  contrary  had  been  the 
case  between  these  lads ;  for  whereas  Wild  was  rapacious 
and  intrepid,  the  other  had  always  more  regard  for  his 
skin  than  his  money ;  Wild  therefore  had  very  generously 
compassionated  this  defect  in  his  schoolfellow,  and  had 
brought  him  off  from  many  scrapes,  into  most  of  which 
he  had  first  drawn  him,  by  taking  the  fault  and  whipping 
to  himself.  He  had  always  indeed  been  well  paid  on  such 
occasions ;  but  there  are  a  sort  of  people  who,  together 


52  JONATHAN   WILD. 

with  the  best  of  the  bargain,  will  be  sure  to  have  the  ob- 
ligation  too  on  their  side ;  so  it  had  happened  here :  for  this 
poor  lad  had  considered  himself  in  the  highest  degree 
obliged  to  Mr.  Wild,  and  had  contracted  a  very  great 
esteem  and  friendship  for  him;  the  traces  of  which 
an  absence  of  many  years  had  not  in  the  least  effaced  in 
his  mind.  He  no  sooner  knew  Wild,  therefore,  than  he 
accosted  him  in  the  most  friendly  manner,  and  invited 
him  home  with  him  to  breakfast  (it  being  now  near  nme 
in  the  morning),  which  in\ntation  our  hero. with  no  great 
difficulty  consented  to.  This  young  man,  who  was  about 
Wild's  age,  had  some  time  before  set  up  in  the  trade  of  a 
jeweler,  in  the  materials  or  stock  for  which  he  had  laid 
out  the  greatest  part  of  a  liltle  fortune,  and  had  married 
a  very  agreeable  woman  for  love,  by  whom  he  then  had 
two  children.  As  our  reader  is  to  be  more  acquainted 
with  this  person,  it  may  not  be  improper  to  open  some- 
what of  his  character,  especially  as  it  will  serve  as  a  kind 
of  foil  to  the  noble  and  great  disposition  of  our  hero,  and 
as  the  one  seems  sent  into  this  world  as  a  proper  object 
on  which  the  talents  of  the  other  were  to  be  displayed 
with  a  proper  and  just  success. 

Mr.  Thomas  Heartfree  then  (for  that  was  his  name) 
was  of  an  honest  and  open  disposition.  He  was  of  that 
sort  of  men  whom  experience  only,  and  not  their  own  na- 
tures, must  inform  that  there  are  such  things  as  deceit 
and  hypocrisy  in  the  world,  and  who,  consequently,  are 
not  at  five-and-twent}^  so  difficult  to  bo  imposed  upon  as 
the  oldest  and  most  subtle.  He  was  possessed  of  several 
great  weaknesses  of  mind,  being  good-natured,  friendly, 
and  generous  to  a  great  excess.  He  had,  indeed,  too 
little  regard  to  common  justice,  for  he  had  forgiven  some 
debts  to  his  acquaintance  only  because  they  could  not 
pay  him,  and  had  intrusted  a  bankrupt,  on  his  setting  up 
a  second  time,  from  having  been  convinced  that  he  had 
dealt  in  his  bankruptcy  with  a  fair  and  honest  heart,  and 
that  he  had  broke  through  misfortune  only,  and  not  from 


JONATHAN  WILD.  53 

neglect  or  imposture.  He  was  withal  so  silly  a  fellow 
that  he  never  took  the  least  advantage  of  the  ignorance 
of  his  customers  ?  and  contented  himself  with  very  moder- 
ate gains  on  his  goods ;  which  he  was  the  better  enabled 
to  do,  notwithstanding  his  generosity,  because  his  life 
was  extremely  temperate,  his  expenses  being  solely  con- 
fined to  the  cheerful  entertainment  of  his  friends  at  home, 
and  now  and  then  a  moderate  glass  of  wine,  in  which  he 
indulged  himself  in  the  company  of  his  wife,  who,  with 
an  agreeable  person,  was  a  mean-spirited,  poor,  domestic, 
low-bred  animal,  who  confined  herself  mostly  to  the  care 
of  her  family,  placed  her  happiness  in  her  husband  and 
her  children,  followed  no  expensive  fashions  or  diversions, 
and  indeed  rarely  went  abroad,  unless  to  return  the  visits 
of  a  few  plain  neighbors,  and  twice  a  year  afforded  her- 
self, in  company  with  her  husband,  the  diversion  of  a 
play,  where  she  never  sat  in  a  higher  place  than  the  pit. 

To  this  silly  woman  did  this  silly  fellow  introduce  the 
Great  Wild,  informing  her  at  the  same  time  of  their 
school  acquaintance  and  the  many  obligations  he  had  re- 
ceived from  him.  This  simple  woman  no  sooner  heard 
her  husband  had  been  obliged  to  her  guest  than  her  eyes 
spariiled  on  him  with  a  benevolence  which  is  an  emanation 
from  the  heart,  and  of  which  great  and  noble  minds, 
whose  hearts  never  swell  but  with  an  injury,  can  have  no 
very  adequate  idea ;  it  is  therefore  no  wonder  that  our 
hero  should  misconstrue,  as  he  did,  the  poor,  innocent, 
and  simple  affection  of  Mrs.  Heartfree  towards  her  hus- 
band's friend  for  that  great  and  generous  passion  which 
fires  the  eyes  of  a  modern  heroine  when  the  colonel  is  so 
kind  as  to  indulge  his  city  creditor  with  partaking  of  his 
table  to-day  and  of  his  bed  to-morrow.  Wild,  therefore, 
instantly  returned  the  compliment  as  he  understood  it, 
with  his  eyes,  and  presently  after  bestowed  many  enco- 
miums on  her  beauty,  with  which,  perhaps,  she,  who  was 
a  woman,  though  a  good  one,  and  misapprehended  the 
design,  was  not  displeased  any  more  than  the  husband. 


54  JONATHAN   WILD. 

When  breakfast  was  ended,  and  the  wife  retired  to  her 
household  affairs,  Wild,  who  had  a  quick  discernment 
into  the  weaknesses  of  men,  and  Avho,  besides  the  knowl- 
edge of  his  good  (or  foolish)  disposition  when  a  boy,  had 
now  discovered  several  sparks  of  goodness,  friendship, 
and  generosity  in  his  friend,  began  to  discourse  over  the 
accidents  which  had  happened  in  their  childhood,  and 
took  frequent  occasions  of  reminding  him  of  those  favors 
which  we  have  before  mentioned  his  having  conferred  on 
him ;  he  then  proceeded  to  the  most  vehement  profes- 
sions of  friendship,  and  to  the  most  ardent  expressions 
of  joy  in  this  renewal  of  their  acquaintance.  He  at 
last  told  him,  with  great  seeming  pleasure,  that  he 
believed  he  had  an  opportunity  of  serving  him  by  the 
recommendation  of  a  gentleman  to  his  custom,  who  was 
then  on  the  brink  of  marriage.  "  And,  if  he  be  not  already 
engaged,  I  will,"  says  he,  "  endeavor  to  prevail  on  him 
to  furnish  his  lady  with  jewels  at  your  shop." 

Heartfree  was  not  backward  in  thanks  to  our  hero, 
and,  after  many  earnest  solicitations  to  dinner,  which 
were  refused,  they  parted  for  the  first  time. 

But  here,  as  it  occurs  to  our  memory  that  our  readers 
may  be  surprised  (an  accident  which  sometimes  happens 
in  histories  of  this  kind)  how  Mr.  Wild  the  elder,  in  his 
present  capacity,  should  have  been  able  to  maintain  his 
son  at  a  reputable  school,  as  this  appears  to  have  been, 
it  may  be  necessary  to  inform  him  that  Mr.  Wild  himself 
was  then  a  tradesman  in  good  business,  but,  by  misfor- 
tunes in  the  world,  to  w4t,  extravagance  and  gaming,  he 
had  reduced  himself  to  that  honorable  occupation  w^hich 
we  have  formerly  mentioned. 

Having  cleared  up  this  doubt,  we  will  now  pursue  our 
hero,  who  forthwith  repaired  to  the  count,  and,  having 
first  settled  preliminary  articles  concerning  distributionSj 
h€  acquainted  him  with  the  scheme  which  he  had  formed 
against  Heartfree ;  and  after  consulting  proper  methods 
to  put  it  in  execution,  they  began  to  concert  measures  for 


JONATHAN  WILD.  55 

the  enlargement  of  the  count ;  on  which  the  first,  and 
indeed  only  point  to  be  considered,  was  to  raise  money, 
not  to  pay  his  debts,  for  that  would  have  required  an 
immense  sum,  and  was  contrary  to  his  inclination  or 
intention,  but  to  procure  him  bail ;  for  as  to  his  escape, 
Mr.  Snap  had  taken  such  precautions  that  it  appeared 
absolutely  impossible. 


CHAPTER  II. 

Great  examples  of  greatness  in  Wild,  shown  as  well  by  Ms  behavior 
to  Bagshot  as  in  a  scheme  laid,  first,  to  im,pose  on  Heartfree  by 
m,eans  of  the  count,  and  then  to  cheat  the  count  of  the  booty. 

Wild  undertook  therefore  to  extract  some  money  from 
Bagshot,  who,  notwithstanding  the  depredations  made 
on  him,  had  carried  off  a  pretty  considerable  booty  from 
their  engagement  at  dice  the  preceding  day.  He  found 
Mr.  Bagshot  in  expectation  of  his  bail,  and,  with  a  coun- 
tenance full  of  concern,  which  he  could  at  anj^  time,  with 
wonderful  art,  put  on,  told  him  that  all  was  discovered ; 
that  the  count  knew  him,  and  intended  to  prosecute  him 
for  the  robbery,  "had  not  I  exerted  (said  he)  my  utmost 
interest,   and  with  great  difficulty  prevailed  on  him  in 

case  you  refund  the  money "  — "  Refund  the  money  !" 

cried  Bagshot,  "  that  is  in  your  power :  for  you  know 
what  an  inconsiderable  part  of  it  fell  to  my  share." — 
"How!"  replied  Wild,  "is  this  your  gratitude  to  me  for 
saving  your  life  ?  For  your  own  conscience  must  con- 
vince you  of  your  guilt,  and  with  how  much  certainty  the 
gentleman  can  give  evidence  against  you." — "Marry, 
come  up  !"  quoth  Bagshot ;  "  I  believe  my  life  alone  will 
not  be  in  danger.  I  know  those  who  are  as  guilty  as  my- 
self. Do  you  tell  me  of  conscience?" — "Yes,  sirrah!" 
answered  our  hero,  taking  him  by  the  collar  ;  "  and  since 
you  dare  threaten  me  I  will  show  you  the  difference  be- 
tween committing  a  robbery  and  conniving  at  it,  which  is 


56  JONATHAN  WILD. 

all  I  can  charge  myself  with.  I  own  indeed  1  suspected, 
when  you  showed  me  a  sum  of  mon(!y,  that  you  had 
not  come  honestly  h}'  it." — "How!"  says  Bag-shot, 
frightened  out  of  one-half  of  his  Avits,  and  amazed  out  of 
the  other,  "can  you  deny?" — "Yes,  you  rascal,"  an- 
swered Wild,  "I  do  den}'  everything;  and  do  3'ou  find  a 
witness  to  prove  it :  and,  to  show  you  how  little  appre- 
hension I  have  of  your  power  to  hurt  mo,  I  will  have  you 
apprehended  this  moment."  At  which  words  he  offered 
to  break  from  him ;  but  Bagshot  laid  hold  of  his  skirts, 
and,  with  an  altered  tone  and  manner,  begged  him  not  to 
be  so  impatient.  "Refund  then,  sirrah,"  cries  Wild, 
"and  perhaps  I  may  take  pity  on  you." — "  What  must  I 
refund ?"  answered  Bagshot. —"Eve r}'-  farthing  in  your 
pocket,"  replied  W^ild  ;  "  then  I  may  have  some  compas- 
sion on  3'ou,  and  not  only  save  your  life,  but,  out  of  an 
excess  of  generosity,  may  return  3'ou  something."  At 
which  words  Bagshot  seeming  to  hesitate,  Wild  pretended 
to  make  to  the  door,  and  rapt  out  an  oath  of  vengeance 
with  so  violent  an  emphasis,  that  his  friend  no  longer 
presumed  to  balance,  but  suffered  Wild  to  search  his 
pockets  and  draw  forth  all  he  found,  to  the  amount  of 
twent3^-one  guineas  and  a  half,  which  last  piece  our  gen- 
erous hero  returned  him  again,  telling  him  he  might  now 
sleep  secure,  but  advised  him  for  the  future  never  to 
threaten  his  friends. 

*  Thus  did  our  hero  execute  the  greatest  exploits  with 
the  utmost  ease  imaginable,  by  means  of  those  transcend- 
ent qualities  which  nature  had  indulged  him  with,  viz.  a 
bold  heart,  a  thundering  voice,  and  a  steady  countenance. 
Wild  now  returned  to  the  count,  and  informed  him  that 
he  had  got  ten  guineas  of  Bagshot :  for,  with  great  and 
commendable  prudence,  he  sunk  the  other  eleven  into  his 
own  pocket,  and  told  him  with  that  money  he  would  pro- 
cure him  bail,  which  he  after  prevailed  on  his  father,  and 
another  gentleman  of  the  same  occupation,  to  become,  for 
two  guineas  each  ;  so  that  he  made  lawful  prize  of  six 


JONATHAN  WILD.  57 

more,  making-  Bag-shot  debtor  for  the  whole  ten ;  for  such 
were  his  great  abilities,  and  so  vast  the  compass  of  his 
understanding,  that  he  never  made  any  bargain  without 
overreaching  (or,  m  the  vulgar  phrase,  cheating)  the  per- 
son with  whom  he  dealt. 

The  count  being,  by  these  means,  enlarg-ed,  the  first 
thing  they  did,  in  order  to  procure  credit  from  trades- 
men, was  the  taking  a  handsome  house  ready  furnished 
in  one  of  the  new  streets ;  in  which  as  soon  as  the  count 
was  settled,  they  proceeded  to  furnish  him  with  servants 
and  equipage,  and  all  the  insignia  of  a  large  estate 
proper  to  impose  on  poor  Heartfree.  These  bemg  all  ob- 
tained. Wild  made  a  second  visit  to  his  friend,  and  with 
much  joy  in  his  countenance  acquainted  him  that  he  had 
succeeded  in  his  endeavors,  and  that  the  gentleman  had 
promised  to  deal  with  him  for  the  jewels  which  he  in- 
tended to  present  his  bride,  and  which  were  designed  to 
be  very  splendid  and  costly ;  he  therefore  appointed  him 
to  go  to  the  count  the  next  morning,  and  carr^''  with  him 
a  set  of  the  richest  and  most  beautiful  jewels  he  had,  giv- 
ing him  at  the  same  time  some  hints  of  the  count's  ignor- 
ance of  that  commodity,  and  that  he  might  extort  what 
price  of  him  he  pleased ;  but  Heartfree  told  him,  not 
without  some  disdain,  that  he  scorned  to  take  any 
such  advantage ;  and,  after  expressing  much  grati- 
tude to  hisfriend  for  his  recommendation,  he  promised 
to  carry  the  jewels  at  the  hour  and  to  the  place  ap- 
pointed. 

I  am  sensible  that  the  reader,  if  he  hath  but  the  least 
notion  of  greatness,  must  have  such  a  contempt  for  the 
extreme  folly  of  this  fellow,  that  he  will  be  very  little 
concerned  at  any  misfortunes  which  may  befall  him  in 
the  sequel ;  for  to  have  no  suspicion  that  an  old  school- 
fellow, with  whom  he  had,  in  his  tenderest  years,  con- 
tracted a  friendship,  and  who,  on  the  accidental  renewing 
of  their  acquaintance,  had  professed  the  most  passionate 
regard  for  him,  should  be  very  ready  to  impose   on  him; 


58  JONATHAN  WILD. 

in  short,  to  conceive  that  a  friend  should,  of  his  own  ac- 
cord, without  any  view  to  his  own  interest,  endeavor  to 
do  him  a  service,  must  arg-ue  such  weakness  of  mind,  such 
ignorance  of  the  world,  and  such  an  artless,  simple,  un- 
designing  heart,  as  must  render  the  person  possessed  of 
it  the  lowest  creature  and  the  properest  object  of  con- 
tempt imaginable  in  the  eyes  of  every  man  of  understand- 
ing and  discernment. 

Wild  remembered  that  his  friend  Heartfree's  faults 
were  rather  in  his  heart  than  in  his  head  ;  that,  though 
he  was  so  mean  a  fellow  that  he  was  never  capable  of 
laying  a  desig-n  to  injure  any  human  creature,  yet  was  he 
by  no  means  a  fool,  nor  liable  to  an}-^  g-ross  imposition, 
unless  where  his  heart  betrayed  him.  He  therefore  in- 
structed the  count  to  take  only  one  of  his  jewels  at  the 
first  interview,  and  to  reject  the  rest  as  not  fine  enoug-h, 
and  order  him  to  provide  some  richer.  He  said  this  man- 
agement would  prevent  Heartfree  from  expecting  ready 
money  for  the  jewel  he  brought  with  him,  which  the 
count  was  presently  to  dispose  of,  and  by  means  of  that 
money,  and  his  g-reat  abilities  at  cards  and  dice,  to  get 
together  as  large  a  sum  as  possible,  which  he  was  to  pay 
down  to  Heartfree  at  the  delivery  of  the  set  of  jewels,  who 
would  be  thus  void  of  all  manner  of  suspicion,  and  would 
not  fail  to  give  him  credit  for  the  residue. 

By  this  contrivance,  it  will  appear  in  the  sequel  that 
Wild  did  not  only  propose  to  make  the  imposition  on 
Heartfree,  who  was  (hitherto)  void  of  all  suspicion,  more 
certain  ;  but  to  rob  the  count  himself  of  this  sum.  This 
double  method  of  cheating-  the  very  tools  who  are  our  in- 
struments to  cheat  others  is  the  superlative  degree  of 
greatness,  and  is  probably,  as  far  as  any  spirit  crusted 
over  with  clay  can  carry  it,  falling-  very  little  short  of 
diabolism  itself. 

This  method  was  immediately  put  in  execution,  and  the 
count  the  first  day  took  only  a  smgle  brilliant,  worth 
about  three  hundred  pounds,  and   ordered  a  necklace, 


JONATHAN  WILD.  59 

earrings,  and  solitaire,  of  the  value  of  three  thousand 
mere,  to  be  prepared  by  that  day  sevennight. 

This  interval  was  employed  by  Wild  in  prosecuting  his 
scheme  of  raising  a  gang,  in  which  he  met  with  such  suc- 
cess, that  within  a  few  days  he  had  levied  several  bold 
and  resolute  fellows,  fit  for  any  enterprise,  how  danger- 
ous or  great  soever. 

We  have  before  remarked  that  the  truest  mark  of 
greatness  is  insatiability.  Wild  had  covenanted  with  the 
count  to  receive  three-fourths  of  the  booty,  and  had,  at 
the  same  time,  covenanted  with  himself  to  secure  the  other 
fourth  part  likewise,  for  which  he  had  formed  a  very 
great  and  noble  design ;  but  he  now  saw  with  concern 
that  sum  which  was  to  be  received  in  hand  by  Heartfree 
in  danger  of  being  absolutely  lost.  In  order  therefore  to 
possess  himself  of  that  likewise,  he  contrived  that  the  jew- 
els should  be  brought  in  the  afternoon,  and  that  Heart- 
free  should  be  detained  before  the  count  could  see  him ; 
so  that  the  night  should  overtake  him  in  his  return,  when 
two  of  his  gang  were  ordered  to  attack  and  plunder  him. 


CHAPTER  III. 
Containing  scenes  of  softness,  love,  and  honor,  all  in  the  great  style. 
The  count  had  disposed  of  his  jewel  for  its  full  value, 
and  this  he  had  by  dexterity  raised  to  a  thousand  pounds; 
this  sum  therefore  he  paid  down  to  Heartfree,  promising 
him  the  rest  within  a  month.  His  house,  his  equipage, 
his  appearance,  but,  above  all,  a  certain  plausibility  in 
his  voice  and  behavior,  would  have  deceived  any  but  one 
whose  great  and  wise  heart  had  dictated  to  him  some- 
thing within  which  would  have  secured  him  from  any 
danger  of  imposition  from  without.  Heartfree  therefore 
did  not  in  the  least  scruple  giving  him  credit;  but,  as  he 
had  in  reality  procured  those  jewels  of  another,  his  own 
little  stock  not  being  able  to  furnish  anything  so  valuable, 


60  JONATHAN  WILD. 

he  beg'ged  the  count  would  be  so  kind  to  give  his  note  for 
the  money,  payable  at  the  time  he  mentioned;  which  that 
g-entleman  did  not  in  the  least  scruple ;  so  he  paid  him  the 
thousand  pounds  in  specie,  and  gave  his  note  for  two 
thousand  eight  hundred  pounds  more  to  Heartfree,  who 
burnt  with  gratitude  to  Wild  for  the  noble  customer  he 
had  recommended  to  him. 

As  soon  as  Heartfree  was  departed.  Wild,  who  waited 
in  another  room,  came  in  and  received  the  casket  from 
the  count,  it  having  been  agreed  between  them  that  this 
should  be  deposited  in  his  hands,  as  he  was  the  original 
contriver  of  the  scheme,  and  was  to  have  the  largest 
share.  Wild,  having  received  the  casket,  offered  to  meet 
the  count  late  that  evening  to  come  to  a  division,  but  such 
was  the  latter's  confidence  in  the  honor  of  our  hero,  that 
he  said,  if  it  was  any  inconvenience  to  him,  the  next  morn- 
ing would  do  altogether  as  well.  This  was  more  agree- 
able to  Wild,  and  accordingly,  an  appointment  being 
made  'for  that  purpose,  he  set  out  in  haste  to  pursue 
Heartfree  to  the  place  where  the  two  gentlemen  were 
ordered  to  meet  and  attack  him.  Those  gentlemen  with 
noble  resolution  executed  their  purpose;  they  attacked 
and  spoiled  the  enemy  of  the  whole  sum  he  had  received 
from  the  count. 

As  soon  as  the  engagement  was  over,  and  Heartfree 
left  sprawling  on  the  ground,  our  hero,  who  wisely  de- 
clined trusting  the  booty  in  his  friends'  hands,  though  he 
had  good  experience  of  their  honor,  made  off  after  the 
conquerors  :  at  length,  they  being  all  at  a  place  of  safety. 
Wild,  according  to  a  previous  agreement,  received  nine- 
tenths  of  the  booty  :  the  subordinate  heroes  did  indeed 
profess  some  little  unwillingness  (perhaps  more  than  was 
strictly  consistent  with  honor)  to  perform  their  contract ; 
but  Wild,  partly  by  argument,  but  more  by  oaths  and 
tlireatenings,  prevailed  with  tliem  to  fulfill  their  promise. 

Our  hero  having  thus,  with  wonderful  address,  brought 
this  great  and  glorious  action  to  a  happy  conclusion,  re- 


JONATHAN  WILD.  61 

solved  to  relax  his  mind  after  his  fatig-ue,  in  the  conver- 
sation of  the  fair.  He  therefore  set  forwards  to  his  lovely 
Lgetitia;  but  in  his  way  accidentally  met  with  a  j'oung-lady 
of  his  acquaintance,  Miss  Molly  Straddle,  who  was  taking 
the  air  in  Bridges  street.  Miss  Molly,  seeing-  Mr.  Wild, 
stopped  him,  and  with  a  familiarity  peculiar  to  a  genteel 
town  education,  tapped  or  rather  slapped  him  on  the  back, 
and  asked  him  to  treat  her  with  a  pint  of  wine  at  a  neigh- 
boring tavern.  The  hero,  though  he  loved  the  chaste 
Laetitia  with  excessive  tenderness,  was  not  of  that  low 
sniveling  breed  of  mortals  who,  as  it  is  generally  ex- 
pressed, tie  themselves  to  a  woman's  apron-strings ; 
in  a  word,  who  are  tainted  with  that  mean,  base,  low  vice, 
or  virtue  as  it  is  called,  of  constancy ;  therefore  he  imme- 
diately consented,  and  attended  her  to  a  tavern  famous 
for  excellent  wine,  known  by  the  name  of  the  Rummer 
and  Horseshoe,  where  they  retired  to  a  room  by  them- 
selves. Wild  was  very  vehement  in  his  addresses,  but  to 
no  purpose ;  the  young"  lady  declared  she  would  grant  no 
favor  till  he  had  made  her  a  present ;  this  was  imme- 
diately complied  with,  and  the  lover  made  as  happy  as  he 
could  desire. 

The  immoderate  fondness  which  Wild  entertained  for 
his  dear  Laetitia  would  not  suffer  him  to  waste  any  con- 
siderable time  with  Miss  Straddle,  Notwithstanding, 
therefore,  all  the  endearments  and  caresses  of  that^^oung 
lady,  he  soon  made  an  excuse  to  go  down  stairs,  and 
thence  immediately  set  forward  to  Laetitia  without  taking 
2i>ny  formal  leave  of  Miss  Straddle,  or  indeed  of  the 
drawer,  with  whom  the  lady  was  afterwards  obliged  to 
come  to  an  account  for  the  reckoning-. 

Mr.  Wild,  on  his  arrival  at  Mr.  Snap's,  found  only  Miss 
Doshy  at  home,  that  young-  lady  being  employed  alone, 
in  imitation  of  Penelope,  with  her  thread  or  worsted,  only 
with  this  difference,  that  whereas  Peneloj)e  unraveled  by 
night  what  she  had  knit  or  wove  or  spun  by  day,  so  what 
our  young  heroine  unraveled  by  day  she  knit  again  by 


G3  JONATHAN   WILD. 

nig'ht.  In  short,  she  was  mending-  a  pair  of  blue  stock- 
ings with  red  clocks ;  a  circumstance  which  perhaps  we 
mig-ht  have  omitted,  had  it  not  served  to  show  that  there 
are  still  some  ladies  of  tliis  age  who  imitate  the  simplicity 
of  the  ancients. 

Wild  immediately  asked  for  his  beloved,  and  was  in- 
formed that  she  was  not  at  home.  He  then  inquired 
where  she  was  to  be  found,  and  declared  he  would  not 
depart  till  he  had  seen  her,  nay,  not  till  he  had  married 
her ;  for,  indeed,  his  passion  for  her  was  truly  honorable  ; 
in  other  words,  he  had  so  ungovernable  a  desire  for  her 
person,  that  he  would  go  any  length  to  satisfy  it.  He  then 
pulled  out  the  casket,  which  he  swore  was  full  of  the  finest 
jewels,  and  that  he  would  give  them  all  to  her,  with 
other  promises,  which  so  prevailed  on  Miss  Doshy,  who 
had  not  the  common  failure  of  sisters  in  envying,  and 
often  endeavoring  to  disappoint,  each  other's  happiness, 
that  she  desired  Mr.  Wild  to  sit  down  a  few  minutes, 
whilst  she  endeavored  to  find  her  sister  and  to  bring  her 
to  him.  The  lover  thanked  her,  and  promised  to  stay 
till  her  return;  and  Miss  Doshy,  leaving  Mr.  Wild  to  his 
meditations,  fastened  him  in  the  kitchen  by  barring  the 
door  (for  most  of  the  doors  in  this  mansion  were  made  to 
be  bolted  on  the  outside),  and  then,  slapping  to  the  door 
of  the  house  with  great  violence,  without  going  out  at  it, 
she  stole  softly  upstairs  where  Miss  Laititia  was  engaged 
in  close  conference  with  Mr.  Bagshot.  Miss  Letty,  being 
informed  by  her  sister  in  a  whisper  of  what  Mr.  Wild  had 
said,  and  what  he  had  produced,  told  Mr.  Bagshot  that  a 
young  lady  was  below  to  visit  her  whom  she  would  dis- 
patch with  all  imaginable  haste  and  return  to  him.  She 
desired  him  therefore  to  stay  with  patience  for  her  in 
the  meantime,  and  that  she  would  leave  the  door 
unlocked,  though  her  papa  would  never  forgive  her  if  he 
should  discover  it.  Bagshot  promised  on  his  honor  not 
to  step  without  his  chamber;  and  the  two  young  ladies 
went  softly  downstairs,  when,  pretending  first  to  make 


JONATHAN  WILD.  63 

their  entry  into  the  house,  they  repaired  to  the  kitchen, 
where  not  even  the  presence  of  the  chaste  Laetitia  could 
restore  that  harmony  to  the  countenance  of  her  lover 
which  Miss  Theodosia  had  left  him  possessed  of;  for, 
during-  her  absence,  he  had  discovered  the  absence  of  a 
purse  containing  bank-notes  for  900Z.,  which  had  been 
taken  from  Mr.  Heartfree,  and  which,  indeed.  Miss 
Straddle  had,  in  the  warmth  of  his  amorous  caresses, 
unperceived  drawn  from  him.  However,  as  he  had  that 
perfect  mastery  of  his  temper,  or  rather  of  his  muscles, 
which  is  as  necessary  to  the  forming-  a  g-reat  character  as 
to  the  personating  it  on  the  stage,  he  soon  conveyed  a 
smile  into  his  countenance,  and,  concealing-  as  well  his 
misfortune  as  his  chagrin  at  it,  began  to  pay  honorable 
addresses  to  Miss  Letty.  This  young-  lad}'-,  among  other 
good  ingredients,  had  three  very  predominant  passions  ; 
to  wit,  vanity,  wantonness,  and  avarice.  To  satisfy  the 
first  of  these  she  employed  Mr.  Smirk  and  company ;  to 
the  second,  Mr.  Bagshot  and  company ;  and  our  hero  had 
the  honor  and  happiness  of  solely  eng-rossing  the  third. 
Now,  these  three  sorts  of  lovers  she  had  very  different 
ways  of  entertaining.  With  the  first  she  was  all  gay 
and  coquette ;  with  the  second  all  fond  and  rampant ;  and 
with  the  last  all  cold  and  reserved.  She  therefore  told 
Mr.  Wild,  with  a  most  composed  aspect,  that  she  was 
glad  he  had  repented  of  his  manner  of  treating  her  at 
their  last  interview,  where  his  behavior  was  so  mon- 
strous that  she  had  resolved  never  to  see  him  any  more  ; 
that  she  was  afraid  her  own  sex  would  hardly  pardon  her 
the  weakness  she  was  guilty  of  in  receding  from  that 
resolution,  which  she  was  persuaded  she  never  should 
have  brought  herself  to,  had  not  her  sister,  who  was 
there  to  confirm  what  she  said  ( as  she  did  with  many 
oaths),  betrayed  her  into  his  company,  by  pretending  it 
was  another  person  to  visit  her  :  but,  however,  as  he  now 
thought  proper  to  give  her  more  convincing-  proofs  of  his 
affections  (for  he  had  now  the  casket  in  his  hand),  and 


C4  JONATHAN   WILD. 

since  she  perceived  his  desi^s  were  no  longer  against  her 
virtue,  but  were  such  as  a  woman  of  honor  might  hsten 

to,  slie  must  own and  then  she  feigned  an  hesitation, 

when  Theodosia  began  :  "  Nay,  sister,  I  am  resolved  you 
shall  counterfeit  no  longer.  I  assure  you,  Mr.  Wild,  she 
hath  the  most  violent  passion  for  j-ou  in  the  world  ;  and, 
indeed,  dear  Tishy,  if  3'ou  offer  to  go  back,  since  I  plainly 
see  Mr.  Wild's  designs  are  honorable,  I  will  betray  all 
you  have  ever  said." — "  How,  sister  I"  answered  La^titia; 
"  I  protest  3'ou  will  drive  me  out  of  the  room  :  I  did  not 
expect  this  usage  from  j'ou."  Wild  then  fell  on  his  knees, 
and,  taking  hold  of  her  hand,  repeated  a  speech,  which, 
as  the  reader  may  easily  suggest  it  to  himself,  I  shall  not 
here  set  down.  He  then  otfered  her  the  casket,  but  she 
gently  rejected  it ;  and  on  a  second  offer,  with  a  modest 
countenance  and  voice,  desired  to  know  what  it  contained. 
Wild  then  opened  it,  and  took  forth  (with  sorrow  I  write 
it,  and  with  sorrow  will  it  be  read)  one  of  those  beautiful 
necklaces  with  which,  at  the  fair  of  Bartholomew,  they 
deck  the  well-bewhitened  neck  of  Thalestris,  queen  of 
Amazons,  Anna  Bullen,  Queen  Elizabeth,  or  some  other 
high  princess  in  DroUic  story.  It  was  indeed  composed 
of  that  paste  which  Derdseus  Magnus,  an  ingenious  toy- 
man, doth  at  a  very  moderate  price  dispense  of  to  the 
second-rate  beaux  of  the  metropohs.  For,  to  open  a  truth, 
which  we  ask  our  reader's  pardon  for  having  concealed 
from  him  so  long,  the  sagacious  count,  wisely  fearing  lest 
some  accident  might  prevent  Mr.  Wild's  return  at  the 
appointed  time,  had  carefully  conveyed  the  jewels  which 
Mr.  Heartfree  had  brought  with  him  into  his  own  pocket, 
and  in  their  stead  had  placed  in  the  casket  these  artificial 
stones,  which,  though  of  equal  value  to  a  philosopher, 
and  perhaps  of  a  much  greater  to  a  true  admirer  of  the 
compositions  of  art,  had  not  however  the  same  charms  in 
the  eyes  of  Miss  Letty,  who  had  indeed  some  knowledge 
of  jewels ;  for  Mr.  Snap,  with  great  reason,  considering 
how  valuable  a  part  of  a  lady's  education  it  would  be  to 


JONATHAN  WILD.  65 

be  well  instructed  in  these  things,  in  an  age  when  young" 
ladies  learn  little  more  than  how  to  dress  themselves,  had 
in  her  j^outh  placed  Miss  Letty  as  the  handmaid  (or  house- 
maid as  the  vulgar  call  it)  of  an  eminent  pawnbroker. 
The  lightning,  therefore,  which  should  have  flashed  from 
the  jewels,  flashed  from  her  eyes,  and  thunder  immedi- 
ately followed  from  her  voice.  She  be-knaved,  be-rascalled, 
be-rogued  the  unhappy  hero,  who  stood  silent,  con- 
founded with  astonishment,  but  more  with  shame  and 
indignation,  at  being  thus  outwitted  and  overreached. 
At  length  he  recovered  his  spirits,  and,  throwing  down 
the  casket  in  a  rage,  he  snatched  the  key  from  the  table, 
and,  without  making  any  answer  to  the  ladies,  who  both 
very  plentifully  opened  upon  him,  and  without  taking 
any  leave  of  them,  he  flew  out  at  the  door,  and  repaired 
with  the  utmost  expedition  to  the  count's  habitation. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

In  which  Wild,  after  many  fruitless  endeavors  to  discover  his 
friend,  moralizes  on  his  misfortune  in  a  speech,  which  may  be  of 
use  (if  rightly  understood)  to  some  other  considerable  speech- 
makers. 

Not  the  highest-fed  footman  of  the  highest-bred  woman 
of  quality  knocks  with  more  impetuosity  than  Wfld  did 
at  the  count's  door,  which  was  immediately  opened  by  a 
well-dressed  liveryman,  who  answered  that  his  master 
was  not  at  home.  Wild,  not  satisfied  with  this,  searched 
the  house,  but  to  no  purpose ;  he  then  ransacked  all  the 
gaming-houses  in  town,  but  found  no  count :  indeed,  that 
gentleman  had  taken  leave  of  his  house  the  same  instant 
Mr.  Wild  had  turned  his  back,  and,  equipping  himself 
with  boots  and  a  post-horse,  without  taking  with  him 
either  servants,  clothes,  or  any  necessaries  for  the  jour- 
ney of  a  great  man,  made  such  mighty  expedition  that  he 
was  now  upwards  of  twenty  miles  on  his  way  to  Dover. 


GG  JONATHAN  WILD. 

Wild,  finding  his  scarcli  incflectual,  resolved  to  give  it 
over  for  that  night ;  he  then  retired  to  his  seat  of  con- 
templation, a  night-cellar,  Avhcre,  without  a  single  farth- 
ing in  his  pocket,  he  called  for  a  sneaker  of  punch,  and, 
placing  himself  on  a  bench  by  himself,  he  softly  vented 
the  following  soliloquy  : — 

"  How  vain  is  human  greatness  !  What  avail  su- 
perior abilities,  and  a  noble  defiance  of  those  narrow  rules 
and  bounds  which  confine  the  vulgar,  when  our  best-con- 
certed schemes  are  liable  to  be  defeated  !  How  unhappy 
is  the  state  of  priggish  !  How  impossible  for  human 
prudence  to  foresee  and  guard  against  every  circumven- 
tion !  It  is  even  as  a  game  of  chess,  where,  while  the 
rook,  or  knight,  or  bishop,  is  busied  in  forecasting  some 
great  enterprise,  a  worthless  pawn  interposes  and  discon- 
certs his  scheme.  Better  had  it  been  for  me  to  have  ob- 
served the  simple  laws  of  friendship  and  morality  than 
thus  to  ruin  my  friend  for  the  benefit  of  others.  I  might 
have  commanded  his  purse  to  any  degree  of  moderation : 
I  have  now  disabled  him  from  the  power  of  serving  me. 
Well  !  but  that  was  not  my  design.  If  I  cannot  arraign 
my  own  conduct,  wh^^  should  I,  like  a  woman  or  a  child, 
sit  down  and  lament  the  disappointment  of  chance  ?  But 
can  I  acquit  myself  of  all  neglect  ?  Did  I  not  misbehave 
in  putting  it  into  the  power  of  others  to  outwit  me  ?  But 
that  is  impossible  to  be  avoided.  In  this  n  prig  is  more 
unhappy  than  any  other :  a  cautious  man  may,  in  a 
crowd,  preserve  his  own  pockets  by  keeping  his  hands  in 
them ;  but  while  the  prig  employs  his  hands  in  another's 
pocket,  how  shall  he  be  able  to  defend  his  own  ?  Indeed, 
in  this  light,  what  can  be  imagined  more  miserable  than  a 
prig  ?  How  dangerous  are  his  acquisitions  !  how  unsafe, 
how  unquiet  his  possessions  !  Why  then  should  any  man 
wish  to  be  apn^,  or  where  is  his  greatness  ?  I  answer,  in 
his  mind  :  it  is  the  inward  glory,  the  secret  consciousness 
of  doing  great  and  wonderful  actions,  which  can  alone  sup- 
port the  truly  great  man,  whether  he  be  a  conqueror. 


JONATHAN  WILD.  67 

a  TYRANT,  a  STATESMAN,  or  a  PRIG.  These  must  bear  Mm 
up  against  the  private  curse  and  public  imprecation,  and, 
while  he  is  hated  and  detested  by  all  mankind,  must  make 
him  inwardly  satisfied  with  himself.  For  what  but  some 
such  inward  satisfaction  as  this  could  inspire  men  pos- 
sessed of  powder,  of  wealth,  of  every  human  blessing- 
which  pride,  avarice,  or  luxury  could  desire,  to  forsake 
their  homes,  abandon  ease  and  repose,  and  at  the  ex- 
pense of  riches  and  pleasures,  at  the  price  of  labor  and 
hardship,  and  at  the  hazard  of  all  that  fortune  hath  lib- 
erally g-iven  them,  could  send  them  at  the  head  of  a  mul- 
titude oi  prigs,  called  an  army,  to  molest  their  neighbors ; 
to  introduce  rape,  rapine,  bloodshed,  and  every  kind  of 
misery  among  their  own  species  ?  What  but  some  such 
glorious  appetite  of  mind  could  inflame  princes,  endowed 
with  the  greatest  honors,  and  enriched  with  the  most 
plentiful  revenues,  to  desire  maliciously  to  rob  those  sub- 
jects of  their  liberties  who  are  content  to  sweat  for  the 
luxury,  and  to  bow  down  their  knees  to  the  pride,  of 
those  very  princes  ?  "What  but  this  can  inspire  them  to 
destroy  one-half  of  their  subjects,  in  order  to  reduce  the 
rest  to  an  absolute  dependence  on  their  own  wills,  and  on 
those  of  their  brutal  successors?  What  other  motive 
could  seduce  a  subject,  possessed  of  great  property  in  his 
community,  to  betray  the  interest  of  his  fellow-subjects, 
of  his  brethren,  and  his  posterity,  to  the  wanton  disposi- 
tion of  such  princes  ?  Lastly,  what  less  inducement  could 
persuade  the  prig  to  forsake  the  methods  of  acquiring  a 
safe,  an  honest,  and  a  plentiful  livelihood,  and,  at  the 
hazard  of  even  life  itself,  and  what  is  mistakingly  called 
dishonor,  to  break  openly  and  bravely  through  the  laws 
of  his  country,  for  uncertain,  unsteady,  and  unsafe  gain  ? 
Let  me  then  hold  myself  contented  with  this  reflection, 
that  I  have  been  wise  though  unsuccessful,  and  am  a 
great  though  an  unhappy  man." 

His  soliloquy  and  his  punch  concluded  together ;  for  he 
had  at  every  pause  comforted  himself  wath  a  sip.    And 


68  JONATHAN  WILD. 

now  it  came  first  iuto  his  head  that  it  would  be  more  dif- 
ficult to  pay  for  it  than  it  was  to  swallow  it ;  when,  to 
his  great  pleasure,  he  beheld  at  another  corner  of  the 
room  one  of  the  gentlemen  whom  he  had  employed  in  the 
attack  on  Heartfree,  and  who,  he  doubted  not,  would 
readily  lend  him  a  guinea  or  two ;  but  he  had  the  morti- 
fication, on  applying  to  him,  to  hear  that  the  gaming- 
table had  stripped  him  of  all  the  bootv  which  his  own 
generosity  had  left  in  his  possession.  He  was  therefore 
obliged  to  pursue  his  usual  method  on  such  occasions : 
so,  cocking  his  hat  llercely,  he  marched  out  of  the  room 
without  making  any  excuse  or  any  one  daring  to  make 
the  least  demand. 


CHAPTER  V. 

Containing  many  surprising  adventures,  which  our  hero,  with  great 
GREATNESS,  achieved. 

We  will  now  leave  our  hero  to  take  a  short  repose,  and 
return  to  Mr.  Snap's,  where  at  Wild's  departure,  the  fair 
Theodosia  had  again  betaken  herself  to  her  stocking,  and 
Miss  Letty  had  retired  upstairs  to  Mr.  Bagshot;  but  that 
gentleman  had  broken  his  parole,  and,  having  conveyed 
himself  below  stairs  behind  a  door,  he  took  the  oppor- 
tunity' of  Wild's  sally  to  make  his  escape.  We  shall  only 
observe  that  Miss  Letty 's  surprise  was  the  greater,  as 
she  had,  notwithstanding  her  promise  to  the  contrary, 
taken  the  precaution  to  turn  the  key  ;  but,  in  her  hurry, 
she  did  it  inetTectually.  How  wretched  must  have  been 
the  situation  of  this  young  creature,  who  had  only  lost  a 
lover  on  whom  her  tender  heart  perfectly  doted,  but  was 
exposed  to  the  rage  of  an  injured  father,  tenderly  jealous 
of  his  honor,  which  was  deeply  engaged  to  the  sherilT  of 
London  and  Middlesex  for  the  safe  custody  of  the  said 
Bagshot,  and  for  which  two  very  good  responsible  friends 
bad  given  not  only  their  words  but  their  bonds. 


JONATHAN  WILD,  69 

But  let  us  remove  our  eyes  from  this  melancholy  ob- 
ject, and  survey  our  hero  who,  after  a  successless  search 
for  Miss  Straddle,  with  wonderful  greatness  of  mind  and 
steadiness  of  countenance  went  early  in  the  morning  to 
visit  his  friend  Heartfree,  at  a  time  when  the  common 
herd  of  friends  would  have  forsaken  and  avoided  him.  He 
entered  the  room  with  a  cheerful  air,  which  he  presently 
changed  into  surprise  on  seeing  his  friend  in  a  nightgown, 
with  his  wounded  head  bound  about  with  linen,  and  look- 
ing extremely  pale  from  a  great  effusion  of  blood.  When 
Wild  was  informed  by  Heartfree  what  had  happened  he 
first  expressed  great  sorrow,  and  afterwards  suffered  as 
violent  agonies  of  rage  against  the  robbers  to  burst  from 
him.  Heartfree,  in  compassion  to  the  deep  impression 
his  misfortunes  seemed  to  make  on  his  friend,  endeavored 
to  lessen  it  as  much  as  possible,  at  the  same  time  exag- 
gerating the  obligation  he  owed  to  Wild,  in  which  his  wife 
likewise  seconded  him,  and  they  breakfasted  with  more 
comfort  than  was  reasonably  to  be  expected  after  such 
an  accident;  Heartfree  expressing  great  satisfaction 
that  he  had  put  the  count's  note  in  another  pocket-book  ; 
adding,  that  such  a  loss  would  have  been  fatal  to  him ;  "  for 
to  confess  the  truth  to  you,  my  dear  friend,"  said  he,  "I 
have  had  some  losses  lately  which  have  greatly  perplexed 
my  affairs ;  and  though  I  have  many  debts  due  to  me 
from  people  of  great  fashion,  I  assure  you  I  know  not 
where  to  be  certain  of  getting  a  shilling."  Wild  greatly 
felicitated  him  on  the  lucky  accident  of  preserving  his 
note,  and  then  proceeded,  with  much  acrimony,  to  inveigh 
against  the  barbarity  of  people  of  fashion,  who  kept 
tradesmen  out  of  their  money. 

While  they  amused  themselves  with  discourses  of  this 
kind.  Wild  meditating  within  himself  whether  he  should 
borrow  or  steal  from  his  friend,  or  indeed  whether  he 
could  not  effect  both,  the  apprentice  brought  a  bank- 
note of  500Z.  in  to  Heartfree,  which  he  said  a  gentlewoman 
in  the  shop,  who  had  been  looking  at  some  jewels,  de- 


70  JONATHAN  WILD. 

sired  him  to  cxrliang-e.  Heartfrce,  looking-  at  the  num- 
ber, immediately  recollected  it  to  be  one  of  those  he  had 
been  robbed  of.  Willi  this  discovery  he  acquainted  Wild, 
who,  with  the  notable  presence  of  mind  and  unchanged 
complexion  so  essential  to  a  g-reat  character,  advised  him 
to  proceed  cautiously  ;  and  ofTered  (as  Mr.  Heartfree  him- 
self was,  he  said,  too  much  Uustered  to  examine  the 
woman  with  sufficient  art),  to  take  her  into  a  room  in  his 
house  alone.  He  would,  he  said,  personate  the  master 
of  the  shop,  would  pretend  to  show  her  some  jewels,  and 
would  undertake  to  get  sufficient  information  out  of  her 
to  secure  the  rogues,  and  most  probably  all  their  booty. 
This  proposal  was  readily  and  thankfully  accepted  by 
Heartfree.  Wild  went  immediately  upstairs  into  the 
room  appointed,  whither  the  apprentice,  according-  to  ap- 
pointment, conducted  the  lady. 

The  apprentice  was  ordered  downstairs  the  moment  the 
lad}^  entered  the  room  ;  and  Wild,  having  shut  the  door, 
approached  her  with  great  ferocity  in  his  looks,  and  be- 
gan to  expatiate  on  the  complicated  baseness  of  the  crime 
she  had  been  guilty  of ;  but  though  he  uttered  many  good 
lessons  of  morality,  as  we  doubt  whether  from  a  particu- 
lar reason  they  may  work  any  very  good  effect  on  our 
reader,  we  shall  omit  his  speech,  and  only  mention  his 
conclusion,  which  was  by  asking  her  what  mercy  she 
could  now  expect  from  him  ?  Miss  Straddle,  for  that  was 
the  young  lady,  who  had  had  a  good  execution,  and  had 
been  more  than  once  present  at  the  Old  Bailey,  very  con- 
fidently denied  the  whole  charge,  and  said  she  had  received 
the  note  from  a  friend.  Wild  then  raising  his  voice,  told 
her  she  should  be  immediately  committed,  and  she  might 
depend  on  being  convicted ;  ''but,"  added  he,  changing 
his  tone,  '*'  as  I  have  a  violent  affection  for  thee,  my  dear 
Straddle,  if  you  will  follow  my  advice,  I  promise  you,  on 
my  honor,  to  forgive  3'ou,  nor  shall  you  be  ever  called  in 
question  on  this  account." — "  Why,  what  would  you  have 
me  to  do,  Mr.  Wild  ?"   replied  the  young  lady,  with  a 


JONATHAN  WILD.  71 

pleasanter  aspect. — "You  must  know  then,"  said  Wild, 
*'  the  money  you  picked  out  of  my  pocket  (nay,  by  G — d 
you  did,  and  if  you  offer  to  flinch  you  shall  "be  convicted  of 
it)  I  won  at  play  of  a  fellow  who  it  seems  robbed  my 
friend  of  it ;  you  must,  therefore,  g"ive  an  information  on 
oath  against  one  Thomas  Fierce,  and  say  that  you  re- 
ceived the  note  from  him,  and  leave  the  rest  to  me.  I  am 
certain,  Molly,  you  must  be  sensible  of  your  obligations 
to  me,  who  return  good  for  evil  to  you  in  this  manner." 
The  lady  readily  consented,  and  advanced  to  embrace  Mr. 
Wild,  who  stepped  a  little  back,  and  cried,  "Hold,  Molly  ; 
there  are  two  other  notes  of  2,001.  each  to  be  accounted 
for — where  are  they  ?"  The  lady  protested  with  the  most 
solemn  asseverations  that  she  knew  of  no  more ;  with 
which,  when  Wild  was  not  satisfied,  she  cried,  "  I  will 
stand  search." — "That  you  shall,"  answered  Wild,  "  and 
stand  strip  too . "  He  then  proceeded  to  tumble  and  search 
her,  but  to  no  purpose,  till  at  last  she  burst  into  tears, 
and  declared  she  would  tell  the  truth  (as  indeed  she  did) ; 
she  then  confessed  that  she  had  disposed  of  the  one  to 
Jack  Swagger,  a  great  favorite  of  the  ladies,  being  an 
Irish  gentleman,  who  had  been  bred  clerk  to  an  attorney, 
afterwards  whipped  out  of  a  regiment  of  dragoons,  and 
was  then  a  Newgate  solicitor,  and  a  bawdy  house  bully  ; 
and,  as  for  the  other,  she  had  laid  it  all  out  that  very 
morning  in  brocaded  silks  and  Flanders  lace.  With  this 
account  Wild,  who  indeed  knew  it  to  be  a  very  probable 
one,  was  forced  to  be  contented ;  and  now,  abandoning 
all  further  thoughts  of  what  he  saw  was  irretrievably 
lost,  he  gave  the  lady  some  further  instructions,  and  then, 
desiring  her  to  stay  a  few  minutes  behind  him,  he  re- 
turned to  his  friend,  and  acquainted  him  that  he  had  dis- 
covered the  whole  roguery  ;  that  the  woman  had  confessed 
from  whom  she  had  received  the  note,  and  promised  to 
give  an  information  before  a  justice  of  peace  ;  adding,  he 
was  concerned  he  could  not  attend  him  thither,  being 
obliged  to  go  to  the  other  end  of  the  town  to  receive  thirty 


".2  JONATHAN  WILD. 

pounds,  which  he  was  to  pay  that  evening.  Heartfree 
said  that  should  not  prevent  him  of  his  company,  for  he 
could  easily  lend  him  such  a  trifle.  This  "was  accordingly 
done  and  accepted,  and  Wild,  Heartfree,  and  the  lady 
went  to  the  justice  together. 

The  warrant  being  granted,  and  the  constable  being 
acquainted  by  the  lady,  who  received  her  information 
from  Wild,  of  Mr.  Fierce's  haunts,  he  was  easily  appre- 
hended, and,  being  confronted  with  Miss  Straddle,  who 
swore  positively  to  him,  though  she  had  never  seen  him 
before,  he  was  committed  to  Newgate,  where  he  immedi- 
ately conveyed  an  information  to  Wild  of  what  had  hap- 
pened, and  in  the  evening  received  a  visit  from  him. 

Wild  affected  great  concern  for  his  friend's  misfortune, 
and  as  great  surprise  at  the  means  by  which  it  was 
brought  about.  However,  he  told  Fierce  that  he  must 
certainly  be  mistaken  in  that  point  of  his  having  had  no 
acquaintance  with  Miss  Straddle ;  but  added  that  he 
would  find  her  out,  and  endeavor  to  take  off  her  evidence, 
which,  he  observed,  did  not  come  home  enough  to  endan- 
ger him ;  besides,  he  w^ould  secure  him  witnesses  of  an 
alibi,  and  five  or  six  to  his  character ;  so  that  he  need 
be  under  no  apprehension,  for  his  confinement  tili  the 
sessions  would  be  his  only  punishment. 

Fierce,  who  was  greatly  comforted  by  these  assurances 
of  his  friend,  returned  him  many  thanks,  and,  both  shak- 
ing each  other  very  earnestly  by  the  hand,  with  a  very 
hearty  embrace  they  separated. 

The  hero  considered  with  himself  that  the  single  evi- 
dence of  Miss  Straddle  would  not  be  sufficient  to  convict 
Fierce,  whom  he  resolved  to  hang,  as  he  was  the  person 
who  had  principally  refused  to  deliver  him  the  stip- 
ulated share  of  the  booty ;  he  therefore  went  in  quest  of 
Mr.  James  Sly,  the  gentleman  who  had  assisted  him  in 
the  exploit,  and  found  and  acquainted  him  with  the  appre- 
hending of  Fierce.  Wild  then,  intimating  his  fear  lest 
Fierce  should  impeach  Sly,  advised  him  to  be  beforehand, 


JONATHAN  WILD.  73 

to  surrender  himself  to  a  justice  of  the  peace  and  offer 
himself  as  an  evidence.  Sly  approved  Mr.  Wild's  opinion, 
went  directly  to  a  magistrate,  and  was  by  him  commit- 
ted to  the  Gate-house,  with  a  promise  of  being  admitted 
evidence  against  his  companion. 

Fierce  was  in  a  few  days  brought  to  his  trial  at  the 
Old  Bailey,  where,  to  his  great  confusion,  his  old  friend 
Sly  appeared  against  him,  as  did  Miss  Straddle.  His 
only  hopes  were  now  in  the  assistances  which  our  hero 
had  promised  him.  These  unhappily  failed  him :  so 
that,  the  evidence  being  plain  against  him,  and  he  making 
no  defense,  the  jury  convicted  him,  the  court  condemned 
him,  and  Mr.  Ketch  executed  him. 

With  such  infinite  address  did  this  truly  great  man 
know  how  to  play  with  the  passions  of  men,  to  set  them 
at  variance  with  each  other,  and  to  work  his  own  pur- 
poses out  of  those  jealousies  and  apprehensions  which  he 
was  wonderfully  ready  at  creating  by  means  of  those 
great  arts  which  the  vulgar  call  treachery,  dissembling, 
promising,  lying,  falsehood,  etc.,  but  which  are  by  great 
men  summed  up  in  the  collective  name  of  policy,  or 
politics,  or  rather  pollitrics ;  an  art  of  which,  as  it  is 
the  highest  excellence  of  human  nature,  perhaps  our 
great  man  was  the  most  eminent  master. 


CHAPTER  VI. 
Of  hats. 
Wild  had  now  got  together  a  very  considerable  gang, 
composed  of  undone  gamesters,  ruined  bailiffs,  broken 
tradesmen,  idle  apprentices,  attorneys'  clerks,  and  loose 
and  disorderly  youth,  who,  being  born  to  no  fortune,  nor 
bred  to  any  trade  or  profession,  were  willing  to  live  lux- 
uriously without  labor.  As  these  persons  wore  different 
principles,  i.  e.,  hats,  frequent  dissensions  grew  among 
them.     There  were  particularly  two  parties,  viz.:  those 


74  JONATHAN  WILD. 

who  woYQ  hcits  fiercely  cocked,  and  those  who  preferred 
the  nab  or  trencher  hat,  with  the  brim  flapping-  over 
their  eyes.  The  former  were  called  cavaliers  and  tory 
7-nry  ranter  boys,  etc.;  the  latter  went  by  the  several 
names  of  wags,  roundheads,  shakcbag-s,  oldnolls,  and 
several  others.  Between  these  continual  jars  arose,  inso- 
much that  they  grew  in  time  to  think  there  was  some- 
thing essential  in  their  differences,  and  that  their  inter- 
ests were  incompatible  with  each  other,  whereas,  in  truth, 
the  difference  lay  only  in  the  fashion  of  their  hats.  Wild, 
therefore,  having-  assembled  them  all  at  an  alehouse  on 
the  night  after  Fierce's  execution,  and  perceiving  evident 
marks  of  their  misunderstanding,  from  their  behavior  to 
each  other,  addressed  them  in  the  following  gentle,  but 
forcible  manner:*  "Gentlemen,  I  am  ashamed  to  see 
men  embarked  in  so  great  and  glorious  an  undertaking 
as  that  of  robbing  the  public,  so  foolishly  and  weakly 
dissenting  among  themselves.  Do  you  think  the  first 
inventors  of  hats,  or  at  least  of  the  distinctions  between 
them,  really  conceived  that  one  form  of  hats  should 
inspire  a  man  with  divinitj'',  another  with  law,  another 
with  learning,  or  another  with  bravery  ?  No,  they  meant 
no  more  by  these  outward  signs  than  to  impose  on  the 
vulgar,  and,  instead  of  putting  great  men  to  the  trouble 
of  acquiring  or  maintaining  the  substance,  to  make  it 
suflicient  that  they  condescend  to  wear  the  type  or  shadow 
of  it.     You    do   wisely,   therefore,  when  in  a  crowd,  to 

*  There  is  somethinj;:  very  mysterious  in  this  speech,  which  probably  that 
chapter  written  by  Aristotle  on  this  subject,  which  is  mentioned  by  a  French 
author,  mi;,'ht  have  fjiven  some  Ii;,'ht  into;  but  that  is  unhappily  among- the  lost 
works  of  that  philosopher.  It  is  remarkable  that  galenu,  which  is  Latin  for  a 
hat,  si<,'uifies  likewise  a  dog-fish,  as  the  Greek  word  kuveii  doth  the  skin  of  that 
animal;  of  which  I  suppose  the  hats  or  helmets  of  the  ancients  were  composed, 
asours  at  present  are  of  the  beaver  or  rabbit.  Sophocles,  in  the  latter  end  of 
his  Ajax,  alludes  to  a  method  of  cheating  in  liats,  and  the  scholiast  on  the  place 
tells  us  of  one  Crephonates,  who  was  a  master  of  the  art.  It  is  observable  likewise 
that  Achille.s,  in  the  fir.st  Iliad  of  Homer,  tells  Agamemnon,  in  anger,  that  he 
had  dog's  eyes.  Now,  as  the  eyes  of  a  dog  are  handsomer  than  those  of  almost 
any  other  animal,  this  could  be  no  term  of  reproach.  He  must  therefore  mean 
that  be  bad  a  baton,  which,  perhaps,  from  the  creature  it  was  made  of,  or 
from  some  other  reason,  might  have  been  a  mark  of.infamy.  This  supersti- 
tious opinion  may  account  for  that  custom,  which  hath  descended  througli  all 
nations,  of  showing  respect  by  pulling  off  this  covering,  and  that  no  man  is 
esteemed  fit  to  converse  with  his  superiors  with  It  on.  I  shall  conclude  this 
learned  note  with  remarking'  that  the  term  old  hat  is  at  present  used  by  tha, 
vulgar  in  no  very  honorable  sense. 


JONATHAN  WILD,  75 

amuse  the  mob  by  quarrels  on  such  accounts,  that  while 
they  are  listening-  to  your  jargon  you  may  with  the 
greater  ease  and  safety  pick  their  pockets  :  but  surely 
to  be  in  earnest,  and  privately  to  keep  up  such  a  ridic- 
ulous contention  among  yourselves,  must  argue  the  high- 
est folly  and  absurdity.  When  you  know  jou  are  all 
prigs  what  difference  can  a  broad  or  a  narrow  brim  cre- 
ate ?  Is  a  prig  less  a  prig  in  one  hat  than  in  another  ? 
If  the  public  should  be  weak  enough  to  interest  them- 
selves in  your  quarrels,  and  to  prefer  one  pack  to  the 
other,  while  both  are  aiming  at  their  purses,  it  is  your 
business  to  laugh  at,  not  imitate  their  folly.  What  can 
be  more  ridiculous  than  for  gentlemen  to  quarrel  about 
hats,  when  there  is  not  one  among  you  whose  hat  is  worth 
a  farthing  ?  What  is  the  use  of  a  hat  farther  than  to 
keep  the  head  warm,  or  to  hide  a  bald  crown  from  the 
public  ?  It  is  the  mark  of  a  gentleman  to  move  his  hat 
on  every  occasion ;  and  in  courts  and  noble  assemblies  no 
man  ever  wears  one.  Let  me  hear  no  more  therefore  of 
this  childish  disagreement,  but  all  toss  up  your  hats 
together  with  one  accord,  and  consider  that  hat  as  the 
best,  which  will  contain  the  largest  booty."  He  thus 
ended  his  speech,  which  was  followed  by  a  murmuring 
applause,  and  immediately  all  present  tossed  their  hats 
together  as  he  had  commanded  them. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

Showing  the  consequence  which  attended  Heartfree'' s  adventures 
zvith  Wild;  all  natural  and  common  enough  to  little  wretches 
who  deal  with  great  men,  together  with  some  precedents  of  let- 
ters, being  the  different  methods  of  answering  a  dun. 

Let  us  now  return  to  Heartfree,  to  whom  the  count's 
note,  which  he  had  paid  away,  was  returned,  with  an  ac- 
count that  the  drawer  was  not  to  be  found,  and  that,  on 
inquiring  after  him,  they  had  heard  he  was  run  away, 


76  JONATHAN  WILD. 

and  consequent!}'  the  money  was  now  demanded  of  the 
endorser.  The  apprehension  of  such  a  loss  would  have 
affected  any  man  of  business,  but  much  more  one  whose 
unavoidable  ruin  it  must  prove.  He  expressed  so  much 
concern  and  confusion  on  this  occasion,  that  the  proprie- 
tor of  the  note  was  frightened,  and  resolved  to  lose  no 
time  m  securing-  what  he  could.  So  that  in  the  afternoon 
of  the  same  day  Mr.  Snap  was  commissioned  to  pay 
Heartfree  a  visit,  which  he  did  with  his  usual  formality, 
and  convej^ed  him  to  his  own  house. 

Mrs.  Heartfree  was  no  sooner  informed  of  what  had 
happened  to  her  husband  than  she  raved  like  one  dis- 
tracted ;  but  after  she  had  vented  the  first  agonies  of  her 
passion  in  tears  and  lamentations  she  applied  herself  to 
all  possible  means  to  procure  her  husband's  liberty.  She 
hastened  to  beg  her  neighbors  to  secure  bail  for  him. 
But,  as  the  news  had  arrived  at  their  houses  before  her, 
she  found  none  of  them  at  home,  except  an  honest  quaker, 
whose  servants  durst  not  tell  a  lie.  However,  she  suc- 
ceeded no  better  with  him,  for  unluckily  he  had  made  an 
affirmation  the  day  before  that  he  would  never  be  bail  for 
any  man.  After  many  fruitless  efforts  of  this  kind  she 
repaired  to  her  husband,  to  comfort  him  at  least  with 
her  presence.  She  found  him  sealing  the  last  of  several 
letters,  which  he  was  dispatching  to  his  friends  and  cred- 
itors. The  moment  he  saw  her  a  sudden  joy  sparkled  in 
his  eyes,  which,  however,  had  a  very  short  duration ;  for 
despair  soon  closed  them  again ;  nor  could  he  help  burst- 
ing into  some  passionate  expressions  of  concern  for  her 
and  his  little  family,  which  she,  on  her  part,  did  her  ut- 
most to  lessen,  by  endeavoring  to  mitigate  the  loss,  and 
to  raise  in  him  hopes  from  the  count,  who  might,  she 
said,  be  possibly  only  gone  into  the  country.  She  com- 
forted him  likewise  with  the  expectation  of  favor  from 
his  acquaintance,  especially  from  those  whom  he  had  in  a 
particular  manner  obliged  and  served.  Lastly,  she  con- 
jured him,  by  all  the  value  and  esteem  he  professed  for 


JONATHAN  WILD.  77 

her,  not  to  endanger  his  health,  on  which  alone  depended 
her  happiness,  by  too  great  an  indulgence  of  grief  ;  assur- 
ing  him  that  no  state  of  life  could  appear  unhappy  to  her 
with  him,  unless  his  own  sorrow  or  discontent  made 
it  so. 

In  this  manner  did  this  weak,  poor-spirited  woman 
attempt  to  relieve  her  husband's  pains,  which  it  would 
have  rather  become  her  to  aggravate,  by  not  only  paint- 
ing out  his  misery  in  the  liveliest  colors  imaginable,  but 
by  upbraiding  him  with  that  folly  and  confidence  which 
had  occasioned  it,  and  by  lamenting  her  own  hard  fate  in 
being  obliged  to  share  his  sufferings. 

Heartfree  returned  this  goodness  (as  it  is  called)  of  his 
wife  with  the  warmest  gratitude,  and  they  passed  an 
hour  in  a  scene  of  tenderness  too  low  and  contemptible  to 
be  recounted  to  our  great  readers.  We  shall  therefore 
omit  all  such  relations,  as  they  tend  only  to  make  human 
nature  low  and  ridiculous. 

Those  messengers  who  had  obtained  any  answers  to 
his  letters  now  returned.  We  shall  here  copy  a  few  of 
them,  as  they  may  serve  for  precedents  to  others  who 
have  an  occasion,  which  happens  commonly  enough  in 
genteel  life,  to  answer  the  impertinence  of  a  dun. 

Letter  I. 
Mr.  Heartfree, — 

My  lord  commands  me  to  tell  you  he  is  very  much  surprised 
at  your  assurance  in  asking  for  money  which  you  know  hath  been 
so  little  while  due ;  however,  as  he  intends  to  deal  no  longer  at 
your  shop,  he  hath  ordered  me  to  pay  you  as  soon  as  I  shall  have 
cash  in  hand,  which,  considering  many  disbursements  for  bills 
long  due,  etc.,  can't  possibly  promise  anytime,  etc.,  atipresent. 
And  am  your  humble  servant, 

Roger  Morecraft. 

Letter  II. 
Dear  Sir, — 

The  money,  as  you  truly  say,  hath  been  three  years  due, 
but  upon  my  soul  I  am  at  present  incapable  of  paying  a  farthing ; 
but,  as  I  doubt  not,  very  shortly,  not  only  to  content  that  small 


78  JONATHAN  WILD. 

bill,  but  likewise  to  lay  out  very  considerable  further  Bums  at  your 
house,  liope  you  will  ine<'t  with  no  inconvenience  by  this  short  de- 
lay in,  dear  sir,  your  most  sincere  humble  servant, 

CiiA.  Courtly. 

Letter  III. 
Mr.  Heartfree,— 

I  beg  you  would  not  acquaint  my  husband  of  the  trifling 
debt  between  us;  for,  as  I  know  you  to  be  a  very  good-natured 
man,  I  will  trust  you  with  a  secret ;  he  gave  me  the  money  long 
since  to  discharge  it,  which  I  had  the  ill-luck  to  lose  at  play.  You 
may  be  assured  I  will  satisfy  you  the  first  opportunity,  and  am,  sir, 
your  very  humble  servant, 

Cath.  Rubbers. 
Please  to  present  my  compliments  to  Mrs.  Heartfree. 

lettep  rv. 

Mr.  Thomas  Heartfree,  Sir,— 

Yours  received  ;  but  as  to  sum  mentioned  therein,  doth 
not  suit  at  present.     Your  humble  servant, 

Peter  Pounce. 

Letter  V. 

Sm,— 

I  am  sincerely  sorry  it  is  not  at  present  possible  for  me  to 
comply  with  your  request,  especially  after  so  many  obligations 
received  on  my  side,  of  which  I  shall  always  entertain  the  most 
grateful  memory.  I  am  very  greatly  concerned  at  your  misfor- 
tunes, and  would  have  waited  upon  you  in  person,  but  am  not  at 
present  very  well,  and  besides  am  obliged  to  go  this  evening  to 
Vauxhall.     I  am,  sir,  your  most  obhged  himible  servant, 

Chas.  Easy. 

p.  S. — I  hope  good  Mrs.  Heartfree  and  the  dear  little  ones 
are  well. 

There  were  more  letters  to  much  the  same  purpose  ; 
but  we  proposed  giving  our  reader  a  taste  only.  Of  all 
these,  the  last  was  infinitely  the  most  g-rating  to  poor 
Heartfree,  as  it  came  from  one  to  whom,  when  in  dis- 
tress, he  had  himself  lent  a  considerable  sum,  and  of 
whose  present  flourishing  circumstances  he  was  well  as- 
sured. 


JONATHAN  WILD.  79 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

In  which  our  hero  carries  greatness  to  an  immoderate  height. 

Let  us  remove,  therefore,  as  fast  as  we  can,  this  detest- 
able picture  of  ing-ratitude,  and  present  the  much  more 
agreeable  portrait  of  that  assurance  to  which  the  French 
very  properl}^  annex  the  epithet  of  good.  Heartfree  had 
scarce  done  reading  his  letters  when  our  hero  appeared 
before  his  eyes;  not  with  that  aspect  with  which  a  pitiful 
parson  meets  his  patron  after  having  opposed  him  at  an 
election,  or  which  a  doctor  wears  when  sneaking  away 
from  a  door  where  he  is  informed  of  his  patient's  death; 
not  with  that  downcast  countenance  which  betrays  the 
man  who,  after  a  strong  conflict  between  virtue  and  vice, 
hath  surrendered  his  mind  to  the  latter,  and  is  discovered 
in  his  first  treachery;  but  with  that  noble,  bold,  great 
confidence  with  which  a  prime  minister  assures  his  de- 
pendent that  the  place  he  promised  him  was  disposed  of 
before.  And  such  concern  and  uneasiness  as  he  expresses 
in  his  looks  on  those  occasions  did  Wild  testify  on  the 
first  meeting  of  his  friend.  And  as  the  said  prime  minis- 
ter chides  you  for  neglect  of  your  interest  in  not  having 
asked  in  time,  so  did  our  hero  attack  Heartfree  for  his 
giving  credit  to  the  count;  and,  without  suffering  him  to 
make  any  answer,  proceeded  in  a  torrent  of  words  to 
overwhelm  him  with  abuse,  which,  however  friendly  its 
intention  might  be,  was  scarce  to  be  outdone  by  an 
enemy.  By  these  means  Heartfree,  who  might  per- 
haps otherwise  have  vented  some  little  concern 
for  that  recommendation  which  Wild  had  given 
him  to  the  count,  was  totally  prevented  from 
any  such  endeavor;  and,  like  an  invading  prince, 
when  attacked  in  his  own  dominions,  forced  to  recall  his 
whole  strength  to  defend  himself  at  home.  This  indeed 
he  did  so  well,  by  insisting  on  the  figure  and  outward 


80  JONATHAN  WILD. 

appearance  of  the  count  and  his  equipag-e,  that  Wild  at 
length  grew  a  little  more  gentle,  and  with  a  sigh  said, 
"I  confess  I  have  the  least  reason  of  all  mankind  to  cen- 
sure another  for  an  imprudence  of  this  nature,  as  I  am 
myself  the  most  easy  to  be  imposed  upon,  and  indeed 
have  been  so  hy  this  count,  who,  if  he  be  insolvent,  hath 
cheated  me  of  live  hundred  pounds.  But,  for  my  ovm. 
part,"  said  he,  "I  will  not  yet  despair,  nor  would  I  have 
you.  Many  men  have  found  it  convenient  to  retire  or  ab- 
scond for  a  while,  and  afterwards  have  paid  their  debts, 
or  at  least  handsomely  compounded  them.  This  I  am 
certain  of,  should  a  composition  take  place,  which  is  the 
worst  I  think  that  can  be  apprehended,  I  shall  be  the  only 
loser;  for  I  shall  think  myself  obliged  in  honor  to  repair 
your  loss,  even  though  you  must  confess  it  was  principally 
owing  to  your  own  folly.  Z — ds  !  had  I  imagined  it 
necessary,  I  would  have  cautioned  you,  but  I  thought  the 
part  of  the  town  where  he  lived  sufBcient  caution  not  to 

trust  him.    And  such  a  sum! The  devil  must  have 

been  in  you  certainly!" 

This  was  a  degree  of  impudence  beyond  poor  Mrs. 
Heartfree's  imagination.  Though  she  had  before  vented 
the  most  violent  execrations  on  Wild,  she  was  now 
thoroughly  satisfied  of  his  innocence,  and  begged  him  not 
to  insist  any  longer  on  what  he  perceived  so  deeply 
affected  her  husband.  She  said  trade  could  not  be  car- 
ried on  without  credit,  and  surely  he  was  sujDQciently  jus- 
tified in  giving  it  to  such  a  person  as  the  count  appeared 
to  be.  Besides,  she  said,  reflections  on  what  was  past 
and  irretrievable  would  be  of  little  service;  that  their 
present  business  was  to  consider  how  to  prevent  the  evil 
consequences  which  threatened,  and  firs  tto  endeavor  to 
procure  her  husband  his  liberty.  ''Why  doth  he  not  pro- 
cure bail?"  said  Wild. — ''Alas!  sir!"  said  she,  "we  have 
applied  to  many  of  our  acquaintance  in  vain;  we  have  met 
with  excuses  even  where  we  could  least  expect  them." — 
"Not  bail!"  answercd  Wild,  in  a  passion;  "he  shall  have 


JONATHAN  WILD,  81 

bail,  if  there  is  any  in  the  world.    It  is  now  very  late,  but 
trust  me  to  procure  him  bail  to-morrow  morning." 

Mrs.  Heartfree  received  these  professions  with  tears, 
and  told  Wild  he  was  a  friend  indeed.  She  then  proposed 
to  stay  that  evening-  with  her  husband,  but  he  would  not 
permit  her  on  account  of  his  little  family,  whom  he  would 
not  agree  to  trust  to  the  care  of  servants  in  this  time  of 
confusion. 

A  hackney-coach  was  then  sent  for,  but  without  success; 
for  these,  like  hackney-friends,  always  offer  themselves  in 
the  sunshine,  but  are  never  to  be  found  when  you  want 
them.  And  as  for  a  chair,  Mr  Snap  lived  in  a  part  of  the 
town  which  chairmen  very  little  frequent.  The  good 
woman  was  therefore  obliged  to  walk  home,  whither  the 
gallant  Wild  offered  to  attend  her  as  a  protector.  This 
favor  was  thankfully  accepted,  and,  the  husband  and 
wife  having  taken  a  tender  leave  of  each  other,  the  for- 
mer was  locked  in  and  the  latter  locked  out  by  the  hands 
of  Mr.  Snap  himself. 

As  this  visit  of  Mr.  Wild's  to  Heartfree  may  seem  one 
of  those  passages  in  history  which  writers,  Drawcansir- 
like,  introduce  only  because  they  dare;  indeed,  as  it  may 
seem  somewhat  contradictory  to  the  greatness  of  our 
hero,  and  may  tend  to  blemish  his  character  with  an  im- 
putation of  that  kind  of  friendship  which  savors  too 
much  of  weakness  and  imprudence,  it  may  be  necessary 
to  account  for  this  visit,  especially  to  our  more  sagacious 
readers,  whose  satisfaction  we  shall  always  consult  in  the 
most  especial  manner.  Thej^  are  to  know  then  that  at 
the  Urst  interview  with  Mrs.  Heartfree  Mr.  Wild  had  con- 
ceived that  passion,  or  affection,  or  friendship,  or  desire, 
for  that  handsome  creature,  which  the  gentlemen  of  this 
our  age  agreed  to  call  love  and  which  is  indeed  no  other 
than  that  kind  of  affection  which,  after  the  exercise  of  the 
dominical  day  is  over,  a  lusty  divine  is  apt  to  conceive  for 
the  well-dressed  sirloin  or  handsome  buttock  which  the 
well-edified  squire  in  gratitude  sets  before  him,  and  which, 


82  JONATHAN  WILD. 

so  violent  is  his  love,  lie  devours  in  imag-ination  the 
moment  he  sees  it.  Not  less  ardent  was  the  hungry  pas- 
sion of  our  hero,  who,  from  the  moment  he  had  cast  his 
eyes  on  that  charming  dish,  had  cast  about  in  his  mind 
by  what  method  he  might  come  at  it.  This,  as  he  per- 
ceived, mig-ht  most  easily  be  effected  after  the  ruin  of 
Heartfree,  which,  for  other  considerations,  he  had  in- 
tended. So  he  postponed  all  endeavors  for  this  purpose 
till  he  had  first  elfected  what,  by  order  of  time,  was  reg'u- 
larly  to  precede  this  latter  design;  with  such  reg'ularity 
did  this  our  hero  conduct  all  his  schemes,  and  so  truly 
superior  was  he  to  all  the  efforts  of  passion,  which  so 
often  disconcert  and  disappoint  the  noblest  views  of 
others. 


CHAPTER  IX. 

More  GREATNESS  in  Wild.  A  loiv  scene  between  Mrs.  Heartfree  and 
her  children,  and  a  scheme  of  our  hero  worthy  the  highest  ad- 
miration, and  even  astonishment. 

When  first  Wild  conducted  his  flame  (or  rather  his 
dish,  to  continue  our  metaphore)  from  the  proprietor,  he 
had  projected  a  design  of  conveying-  her  to  one  of  those 
eating-houses  in  Covent  Garden,  where  female  flesh  is 
dehciously  dressed  and  served  up  to  the  greedy  appetites 
of  young  gentlemen  ;  but,  fearing  lest  she  should  not 
come  readily  enough  into  his  wishes,  and  that,  by  too 
eager  and  hasty  a  pursuit,  he  should  frustrate  his  future 
expectations,  and  luckily  at  the  same  time  a  noble  hint 
suggesting  itself  to  him  by  which  he  might  almost  inev- 
itably- secure  his  pleasure,  together  with  his  profit,  he 
contented  himself  with  waiting  on  Mrs.  Heartfree  home, 
and,  after  many  protestations  of  friendship  and  service  to 
her  husband,  took  his  leave,  and  promised  to  visit  her 
early  in  the  morning,  and  to  conduct  her  back  to  Mr. 
Snap's. 


JONATHAN   WILD.  83 

Wild  now  retired  to  a  night-cellar,  where  he  found  sev- 
eral of  his  acquaintance,  with  whom  he  spent  the  remain- 
ing' part  of  the  night  in  revelling ;  nor  did  the  least  com- 
passion for  Heartfree's  misfortunes  disturb  the  pleasure 
of  his  cups.  So  truly  great  was  his  soul  that  it  was  ab- 
solutely composed,  save  that  an  apprehension  of  Miss 
Tishy's  making  some  discovery  (as  she  was  then  in  no 
good  temper  towards  him)  a  little  ruffled  and  disquieted 
the  perfect  serenity  he  would  otherwise  have  enjoyed.  As 
he  had ,  therefore,  no  opportunity  of  seeing  her  that  eve- 
ning, he  wrote  her  a  letter  full  of  ten  thousand  protesta- 
tions of  honorable  love,  and  (which  he  more  depended  on) 
containing  as  many  promises,  in  order  to  bring  the  young 
lady  into  good  humor,  without  acquainting  her  in  the 
least  with  his  suspicion,  or  giving  her  any  caution  ;  for  it 
was  his  constant  maxim  never  to  put  it  into  any  one's  head 
to  do  you  a  mischief  by  acquainting  him  that  it  is  in  his 
power. 

We  must  now  return  to  Mrs.  Heartfree,  who  passed  a 
sleepless  night  in  as  great  agonies  and  horror  for  the  ab- 
sence of  her  husband  as  a  fine  well-bred  woman  would 
feel  at  the  return  of  hers  from  a  long  voyage  or  jour- 
ney. In  the  morning  the  children  being  brought  to  her, 
the  eldest  asked  where  dear  papa  was  ?  at  which  she 
could  not  refrain  from  bursting  into  tears.  The  child, 
perceiving  it,  said,  "  Don't  cry,  mamma  ;  I  am  sure 
papa  would  not  stay  abroad  if  he  could  help  it."  At 
these  words  she  caught  the  child  in  her  arms,  and, 
throwing  herself  into  the  chair  in  an  agony  of  passion, 
cried  out  "  No,  my  child ;  nor  shall  all  the  malice  of  hell 
keep  us  long  asunder." 

These  are  circumstances  which  we  should  not,  for  the 
amusement  of  six  or  seven  readers  only,  have  inserted, 
had  they  not  served  to  show  that  there  are  weaknesses 
in  vulgar  life  to  which  great  minds  are  so  entirely 
strangers  that  they  have  not  even  an  idea  of  them; 
and,  secondly,  by  exposing  the  folly  of  this  low  creature, 


84  JONATHAN  WILD. 

to  set  off  and  elevate  that  greatness  of  which  we  endeavor 
to  draw  a  true  portrait  in  this  history. 

AVihl,  entering  tlie  room,  found  the  mother  with  one 
chikl  in  lier  arms,  and  the  other  at  her  knee.  After  pay- 
ing her  his  compliments,  he  desired  her  to  dismiss  the 
children  and  servant,  for  that  ho  had  something  of  the 
greatest  moment  to  impart  to  her. 

She  immediately  complied  with  his  request,  and,  the 
door  being  shut,  asked  him  with  great  eagerness  if  he 
had  succeeded  in  his  intentions  of  procuring  the  bail.  He 
answered  he  had  not  endeavored  at  it  yet,  for  a  scheme 
had  entered  into  his  head  by  which  she  might  certainly 
preserve  her  husband,  herself,  and  her  family.  In  order 
to  which  he  advised  her  instantly  to  remove  with  the  most 
valuable  jewels  she  had  to  Holland,  before  any  statute  of 
bankruptcy  issued  to  prevent  her;  that  he  would  himself 
attend  her  thither  and  place  her  in  safety,  and  then  re- 
turn to  deliver  her  husband,  who  would  be  thus  easily 
able  to  satisfy  his  creditors.  He  added  that  he  was  that 
instant  come  from  Snap's,  where  he  had  communicated 
the  scheme  to  Heartfree,  who  had  greatly  approved  of 
it,  and  desired  her  to  put  it  in  execution  without  delay, 
concluding  that  a  moment  was  not  to  be  lost. 

The  mention  of  her  husband's  approbation  left  no  doubt 
in  this  poor  woman's  breast;  she  only  desired  a  moment's 
time  to  pay  him  a  visit  in  order  to  take  her  leave.  But 
Wild  peremptorily  refused  ;  he  said  by  every  moment's 
delay  she  risked  the  ruin  of  her  family;  that  she  would 
be  absent  only  a  few  days  from  him,  for  that  the  moment 
he  had  lodged  her  safe  in  Holland  he  would  return,  pro- 
cure her  husband  his  liberty,  and  bring  him  to  her.  "  I 
have  been  the  unfortunate,  the  innocent  cause  of  all  my 
dear  Tom's  calamity,  madam,"  said  he,  ''and  I  will 
perish  with  him  or  see  him  out  of  it."  Mrs.  Heartfree 
overflowed  with  acknowledgments  of  his  goodness,  but 
still  begged  for  the  shortest  interview  with  her  husband. 
Wild  declared  that  a  minute's  delay  might  be  fatal;  and 


JONATHAN  WILD.  85 

added,  though  with  the  voice  of  sorrow  rather  than  of 
anger,  that  if  she  had  not  resolution  enough  to  execute 
the  commands  he  brought  her  from  her  husband,  his 
ruin  would  lie  at  her  door ;  and,  for  his  own  part,  he 
must  give  up  any  farther  meddling  in  his  affairs. 

She  then  proposed  to  take  her  children  with  her  ;  but 
Wild  would  not  permit  it,  saying  they  would  only  retard 
their  flight,  and  that  it  would  be  properer  for  her  hus- 
band to  bring  them.  He  at  length  absolutely  prevailed 
on  this  poor  woman,  who  immediately  packed  up  the 
most  valuable  effects  she  could  find,  and,  after  taking  a 
tender  leave  of  her  infants,  earnestly  recommended  them 
to  the  care  of  a  very  faithful  servant.  Then  they  called 
a  hackney-coach,  which  conveyed  them  to  an  inn,  where 
they  were  furnished  with  a  chariot  and  six,  in  which 
they  set  forward  for  Harwich. 

Wild  rode  with  an  exulting  heart,  secure,  as  he  now 
thought  himself,  of  the  possession  of  that  lovely  woman, 
together  with  a  rich  cargo.  In  short,  he  enjoyed  in  his 
mind  all  the  happiness  which  unbridled  lust  and  rapa- 
cious avarice  could  promise  him.  As  to  the  poor  crea- 
ture who  was  to  satisfy  these  passions,  her  whole  soul 
was  employed  in  reflecting  on  the  condition  of  her  hus- 
band and  children.  A  single  word  scarce  escaped  her 
lips,  though  many  a  tear  gushed  from  her  brilliant  eyes, 
which,  if  I  may  use  a  coarse  expression,  served  only  as 
delicious  sauce  to  heighten  the  appetite  of  Wild. 


CHAPTER  X. 

Sea-adventures  very  new  and  surprising. 

When  they  arrived  at  Harwich  they  f oimd  a  vessel, 
which  had  put  in  there,  just  ready  to  depart  for  Rotter- 
dam. So  they  went  immediately  on  board,  and  sailed 
with  a  fair  wind;  but  they  had  hardly  proceeded  out  of 


80  JONATHAN  WILD. 

si^ht  of  land  when  a  sudden  and  violent  storm  arose  and 
drove  them  to  tlie  south-west;  insomuch  that  the  captain 
apprehended  it  impossible  to  avoid  the  Goodwin  Sands,  and 
he  and  all  his  crew  gave  themselves  for  lost.  Mrs.  Heart- 
free,  who  had  no  other  apprehensions  from  death  but 
those  of  leaving  her  dear  husband  and  children,  fell  on 
her  knees  to  beseech  the  Almighty's  favor,  when  Wild, 
with  a  contempt  of  danger  trul}^  great,  took  a  resolution 
as  worthy  to  be  admired  perhaps  as  any  recorded  of  the 
bravest  hero,  ancient  or  modern;  a  resolution  which, 
plainly  proved  him  to  have  these  two  qualifications  so 
necessary  to  a  hero,  to  be  superior  to  all  the  energies  of 
fear  or  pity.  He  saw  the  tyrant  death  ready  to  rescue 
from  him  his  intended  prey,  which  he  had  yet  devoured 
only  in  imagination.  He  therefore  swore  he  would  pre- 
vent him,  and  immediately  attacked  the  poor  wretch,  who 
was  in  the  utmost  agonies  of  despair,  first  with  solicita- 
tion, and  afterwards  with  force. 

Mrs  Heartfree,  the  moment  she  understood  his  meaning^ 
which,  in  her  present  temper  of  mind,  and  in  the  opinion 
she  held  of  him,  she  did  not  immediately,  rejected  him  with 
all  the  repulses  which  indignation  and  horror  could  ani- 
mate; but  w^hen  he  attempted  violence  she  filled  the  cabin 
with  her  shrieks,  which  were  so  vehement  that  they 
reached  the  ears  of  the  captain,  the  storm  at  this  time 
luckily  abating.  This  man,  who  was  a  brute  rather  from 
his  education  and  the  element  he  inhabited  than  from 
nature,  ran  hastily  down  to  her  assistance,  and,  finding 
her  struggling  on  the  ground  with  our  hero,  he  presently 
rescued  her  from  her  intended  ravisher,  who  was  soon 
obliged  to  quit  the  woman,  in  order  to  engage  with  her 
lusty  champion,  who  spared  neither  pains  nor  blows  in 
the  assistance  of  his  fair  passenger. 

When  the  short  battle  was  over,  in  which  our  hero, 
had  he  not  been  overpowered  with  numbers,  who  came 
down  on  their  captain's  side,  would  have  been  victorious, 
the  captain  rapped  out  a  hearty  oath,  and  asked  Wild  if 


JONATHAN  WILD,  87 

lie  had  no  more  Christianity  in  him  than  to  ravish  a 
woman  in  a  storm  ?  To  which  the  other  greatly  and  sul- 
lenly answered,  "It  was  very  well;  but  d — n  him  if  he  had 
not  satisfaction  the  moment  they  came  on  shore."      The 

captain  with  great  scorn  replied,  "Kiss ,"  etc.,  and 

then,  forcing  Wild  out  of  the  cabin,  he,  at  Mrs.  Heart- 
free's  request,  locked  her  into  it,  and  returned  to  the  care 
of  h's  ship. 

The  storm  was  now  entirely  ceased,  and  nothing  re- 
mained but  the  usual  ruffling  of  the  sea  after  it,  when  one 
of  the  sailors  spied  a  sail  at  a  distance,  which  the  captain 
wisely  apprehended  might  be  a  privateer  (for  we  were 
then  engaged  in  a  war  with  France),  and  immediately 
ordered  all  the  sail  possible  to  be  crowded,  but  this  cau- 
tion was  in  vain,  for  the  little  wind  which  then  blew  was 
directly  adverse,  so  that  the  ship  bore  down  upon  them, 
and  soon  appeared  to  be  what  the  captain  had  feared,  a 
French  privateer.  He  was  in  no  condition  of  resistance, 
and  immediately  struck  on  her  firing  the  first  gun.  The 
captain  of  the  Frenchman,  with  several  of  his  hands, 
came  on  board  the  English  vessel,  which  they  rifled  of 
everything  valuable,  and,  amongst  the  rest,  of  poor  Mrs. 
Heartfree's  whole  cargo;  and  then  taking  the  crew, 
together  with  the  two  passengers,  aboard  his  own  ship, 
he  determined,  as  the  other  would  be  only  a  burthen  to 
him,  to  sink  her,  she  being  very  old  and  leaky,  and  not 
worth  going  back  with  to  Dunkirk.  He  preserved, 
therefore,  nothing  but  the  boat,  as  his  own  was  none  of 
the  best,  and  then,  pouring  a  broadside  into  her,  he  sent 
her  to  the  bottom. 

The  French  captain,  who  was  a  very  young  fellow,  and 
a  man  of  gallantry,  was  presently  enamored  to  no  small 
degree  with  his  beautiful  captive ;  and,  imagining  Wild, 
from  some  words  he  dropped,  to  be  her  husband,  not- 
withstanding the  ill  affection  towards  him  which  ap- 
peared in  her  looks,  he  asked  her  if  she  understood 
French,    She  answered  in  the  affirmative,  for  indeed  she 


88  JONATHAN  WILD. 

did  perfectly  well.  He  then  asked  her  how  long  she  and 
that  gentleman  (pointing  to  Wild)  had  been  married. 
She  answered,  with  a  deep  sigh  and  many  tears,  that  she 
was  married  indeed,  but  not  to  tliat  villain,  who  was  the 
sole  cause  of  all  her  misfortunes.  The  appellation  raised 
a  curiosity  in  the  captain,  and  he  importuned  her  in  so 
pressing  but  gentle  a  manner  to  acquaint  him  with  the 
injuries  she  complained  of,  that  she  was  at  last  prevailed 
on  to  recount  to  him  the  whole  history  of  her  atUictions. 
Tills  so  moved  the  captain,  w^ho  had  too  little  notions  of 
greatness,  and  so  incensed  him  against  our  hero, 
that  he  resolved  to  punish  him;  and,  without 
regard  to  the  laws  of  war,  he  immediately  ordered  out 
his  shattered  boat,  and,  making  Wild  a  present  of  half-a- 
dozen  biscuits  to  prolong  his  misery,  he  put  him  therein, 
and  then,  committing  him  to  the  mercy  of  the  sea,  pro- 
ceeded on  his  cruise. 


CHAPTER    XI. 

The  great  and  wonderful  heTiavior  of  our  hero  in  the  boat. 

It  is  probable  that  a  desire  of  ingratiating  himself 
-with  his  charming  captive,  or  rather  conqueror,  had  no 
little  share  in  promoting  this  extraordinary  act  of  illegal 
justice  ;  for  the  Frenchman  had  conceived  the  same  sort 
of  passion  or  hunger  which  Wild  himself  had  felt,  and 
w^as  almost  as  much  resolved,  by  some  means  or  other, 
to  satisfy  it.  We  will  leave  him,  however,  at  present  in 
the  pursuit  of  his  wishes,  and  attend  our  hero  in  his  boat, 
since  it  is  in  circumstances  of  distress  that  true  great- 
ness appears  most  wonderful.  For  that  a  prince  in  the 
midst  of  his  courtiers,  all  ready  to  compliment  him  with 
his  favorite  character  or  title,  and  indeed  with  everything 
else,  or  that  a  conqueror,  at  the  head  of  a  hundred  thou- 
sand men,  all  prepared  to  execute  his  will,  how  ambitious, 


JONATHAN  WILD.  89 

wanton,  or  cruel  soever,  should,  in  the  giddiness  of  their 
pride,  elevate  themselves  many  degrees  above  those  their 
tools,  seems  not  difficult  to  be  imagined,  or  indeed  ac- 
counted for.  But  that  a  man  in  chains,  in  prison,  nay,  in 
the  vilest  dungeon,  should,  with  persevering  pride  and 
obstinate  dignity,  discover  that  vast  superiority  in  his 
own  nature  over  the  rest  of  mankind,  who  to  a  vulgar 
eye  seem  much  happier  than  himself;  nay,  that  he 
should  discover  heaven  and  providence  (whose  peculiar 
care,  it  seems,  he  is)  at  that  very  time  at  work  for  him;  this 
is  among  the  arcana  of  greatness,  to  be  perfectly  under- 
stood only  by  an  adept  in  that  science. 

What  could  be  imagined  more  miserable  than  the  sit- 
uation of  our  hero  at  this  season,  floating  in  a  little  boat 
on  the  open  seas,  without  oar,  without  sail,  and  at  the 
mercy  of  the  first  wave  to  overwhelm  him  ?  nay,  this 
was  indeed  the  fair  side  of  his  fortune,  as  it  was  a 
much  more  eligible  fate  than  that  alternative  which 
threatened  him  with  almost  unavoidable  certainty,  viz. 
starving  with  hunger,  the  sure  consequence  of  a  continu- 
ance of  the  calm. 

Our  hero,  finding  himself  in  this  condition,  began  to 
ejaculate  a  round  of  blasphemies,  which  the  reader,  with- 
out being  over-pious,  might  be  offended  at  seeing  re- 
peated. He  then  accused  the  whole  female  sex,  and  the 
passion  of  love  (as  he  called  it),  particularly  that  which 
he  bore  to  Mrs.  Heartfree,  as  the  unhappy  occasion  of 
his  present  sufferings.  At  length,  finding  himself  de- 
scending too  much  into  the  language  of  meanness  and 
complaint,  he  stopped  short,  and  soon  after  broke  forth  as 
follows:  "D — n  it,  a  man  can  die  but  once  !  what  signifies 
it  ?  Every  man  must  die,  and  when  it  is  over  it  is  over. 
I  never  was  afraid  of  anything  yet,  nor  I  won't  begin 
now ;  no,  d — n  me,  won't  I.  What  signifies  fear  ?  I 
shall  die  whether  I  am  afraid  or  no  ;  who's  afraid  then, 
d — n  me  ?  "  At  which  words  he  lookedextremely  fierce, 
but,  recollecting  that  no  one  was  present  to  see  him,  he 


90  JONATHAN   WILD. 

relaxed  a  little  the  terror  of  his  countenance,  and,  paus- 
ing- a  while,  repeated  the  word,  d — n  !  **  Suppose  I 
should  be  d — ned  at  last,''  cries  he,  "  when  I  never 
thought  a  syllable  of  the  matter !  I  have  often  laug-hed 
and  made  a  jest  about  it,  and  3'et  it  may  be  so,  for  any- 
thing which  I  know  to  the  contrary.  If  there  should  be 
another  world  it  will  go  hard  with  me,  that  is  certain. 
I  shall  never  escape  for  what  I  have  done  to  Heartfree. 
The  devil  must  have  me  for  that  undoubtedly.  The 
devil !  Pshaw  !  I  am  not  such  a  fool  to  be  frightened 
at  him  neither.  No,  no;  when  a  man's  dead  there's  an 
end  of  him.  1  wish  I  was  certainly  satisfied  of  it  though ; 
for  there  are  some  men  of  learning,  as  I  have  heard,  of  a 
different  opinion.  It  is  but  a  bad  chance,  methinks,  I 
stand.  If  there  be  no  other  world,  why  I  shall  be  in  no 
worse  condition  than  a  block  or  a  stone ;  but  if  there 

should d — n  me  I  will  think  no  longer  about  it.     Let  a 

pack  of  cowardly  rascals  be  afraid  of  death;  I  dare  look 
him  in  the  face.  But  shall  I  sta^^  and  be  starved  ?  No, 
I  will  eat  up  the  biscuits  the  French  son  of  a  whore 
bestowed  on  me,  and  then  leap  into  the  sea  for  drink, 
since  the  unconscionable  dog  hath  not  allowed  me  a 
single  dram."  Having  thus  said,  he  proceeded  immedi- 
ately to  put  his  purpose  in  execution,  and  as  his  resolu- 
tion never  failed  him,  he  had  no  sooner  despatched  the 
small  quantity  of  provision  which  his  enem^'  had  with  no 
vast  liberality  presented  him,  than  he  cast  himself  head* 
long  into  the  sea. 


CHAPTER  XII. 

Tlie  strange  and  yet  natural  escape  of  our  hero. 

Our  hero,  having  with  wonderful  resolution  thrown 

himself  into  the  sea,  as  we  mentioned  at  the  end  of  the 

last  chapter,  was  miraculously  within  two  minutes  after 

replaced  in  his  boat ;  and  this  without  the  assistance  of  a 


JONATHAN  WILD.  91 

dolphin  or  a  seahorse,  or  any  other  fish  or  animal,  who 
are  always  as  ready  at  hand  when  a  poet  or  historian 
pleases  to  call  for  them  to  carry  a  hero  through  the  sea, 
as  any  chairman  at  a  coffee-house  door  near  St.  James's 
to  convey  a  beau  over  a  street,  and  preserve  his  white 
stockings.  The  truth  is,  we  do  not  choose  to  have  any 
recourse  to  miracles,  from  the  strict  observance  we  pay 
to  that  rule  of  Horace, 

Nee  Deus  intersit,  nisi  dignus  vindice  nodus. 

The  meaning  of  which  is,  do  not  bring  in  a  supernatural 
agent  when  you  can  do  without  him ;  and  indeed  we  are 
much  deeper  read  in  natural  than  supernatural  causes. 
We  will  therefore  endeavor  to  account  for  this  extraordi- 
nary event  from  the  former  of  these  ;  and  in  doing  this  it 
will  be  necessary  to  disclose  some  profound  secrets  to  our 
reader,  extremely  well  worth  his  knowing,  and  which 
may  serve  him  to  account  for  many  occurrences  of  the 
phenomenous  kind  which  have  formerly  appeared  in  this 
our  hemisphere. 

Be  it  known,  then,  that  the  great  Alma  Mater,  Nature 
IS  of  all  other  females  the  most  obstinate,  and  tenacious 
of  her  purpose.     So  true  is  that  observation, 

Naturam  expellas  furca  licet,  usque  recurret. 

Which  I  need  not  render  in  English,  it  being  to  be  found 
in  a  book  which  most  fine  gentlemen  are  forced  to  read. 
Whatever  Nature,  therefore,  purposes  to  herself,  she 
never  suffers  any  reason,  design,  or  accident  to  frustrate. 
Now,  though  it  may  seem  to  a  shallow  observer  that 
some  persons  were  designed  by  Nature  for  no  use  or  pur- 
pose whatever,  yet  certain  it  is  that  no  man  is  born  into 
the  world  without  his  particular  allotment ;  viz.  some  to 
be  kings,  some  statesmen,  some  ambassadors,  some 
bishops,  some  generals,  and  so  on.  Of  these  there  be  two 
kinds:  those  to  whom  Nature  is  so  generous  to  give  some 
endowment  qualifying  them  for  the  parts  she  intends 
them  afterwards  to  act  on  this  stage,  and  those  whom  she 


92  JONATHAN  WILD. 

uses  as  instances  of  her  unlimited  power,  and  for  whose 
preferment  to  such  and  such  stations  Solomon  himself 
could  have  invented  no  other  reason  than  that  Nature 
designed  them  so.  These  latter  some  great  philosophers 
have,  to  show  them  to  be  the  favorites  of  Nature,  dis- 
tinguished by  the  honorable  appellation  of  NATURALS. 
Indeed,  the  true  reason  of  the  general  ignorance  of  man- 
kind on  this  head  seems  to  be  this;  that,  as  Nature 
chooses  to  execute  these  her  purposes  by  certain  second 
causes,  and  as  many  of  these  second  causes  seem  so 
totally  foreign  to  her  design,  tbe  wit  of  man,  which,  like 
his  eye,  sees  best  directly  forward,  and  very  little  and  im- 
perfectly what  is  oblique,  is  no^.  able  to  discern  the  end  by 
the  means.  Thus,  how  a  handsome  wife  or  daughter  should 
contribute  to  execute  her  original  designation  of  a  gen- 
eral, or  how  flattery  or  half  a  dozen  houses  in  a  borough- 
town  should  denote  a  judge,  or  a  bishop,  he  is  not  capa- 
ble of  comprehending.  And,  indeed,  we  ourselves,  wise 
as  we  are,  are  forced  to  reason  ah  effectu;  and  if  w^e  had 
been  asked  what  Nature  had  intended  such  men  for, 
before  she  herself  had  by  the  event  demonstrated  her  pur- 
pose, it  is  possible  we  might  sometimes  have  been  puzzled 
to  declare ;  for  it  must  be  confessed  that  at  first  sight,  and 
to  a  mind  uninspired,  a  man  of  vast  natural  incapacity 
and  much  acquired  knowledge  may  seem  by  Nature 
designed  for  power  and  honor,  rather  than  one  remark- 
able only  for  the  want  of  these,  and  indeed  all  other  qual- 
ifications ;  whereas  daily  experience  convinces  us  of  the 
contrary,  and  drives  us  as  it  were  into  the  opinion  I  have 
here  disclosed. 

Now,  Nature  having  originally  intended  our  great  man 
for  that  final  exaltation  which,  as  it  is  the  most  proper 
and  becoming  end  of  all  great  men,  it  were  heartily  to  be 
wished  they  might  all  arrive  at,  would  by  no  means  be 
diverted  from  her  purpose.  She  therefore  no  sooner  spied 
him  in  the  water  than  she  softly  whispered  in  his  ear  to 
attempt  the  recovery  of  his  boat,  which  call  he  immedi- 


JONATHAN   WILD.  93 

ately  obeyed,  and  being-  a  good   swimmer  and  it  being-  a 
perfect  calm,  with  great  facility  accomplished  it. 

Thus  we  think  this  passage  in  our  history,  at  first  so 
greatly  surprising-,  is  very  naturally  accounted  for,  and 
our  relation  rescued  from  the  Prodigious,  w^hich,  though 
It  often  occurs  in  bio^aphy,  is  not  to  be  encourag-ed  nor 
much  commended  on  any  occasion,  unless  when  abso- 
lutely necessary  to  prevent  the  history's  being  at  an  end. 
Secondly,  we  hope  our  hero  is  justified  from  that  imputa- 
tion of  want  of  resolution  which  must  have  been  fatal  to 
the  greatness  of  his  character. 

CHAPTER   XIII. 

The   conclusion  of  the  boat  adventure  and  the  end  of  the  second 

book. 

Our  hero  passed  the  remainder  of  the  evening,  the 
night,  and  the  next  day,  in  a  condition  not  much  to  be 
envied  by  any  passion  of  the  human  mind,  unless  by 
ambition ;  which,  provided  it  can  only  entertain  itself  with 
the  most  distant  music  of  fame's  trumpet,  can  disdain  all 
the  pleasures  of  the  sensualist,  and  those  more  solemn, 
though  quieter  comforts,  which  a  good  conscience  sug- 
gests to  a  Christian  philosopher. 

He  spent  his  time  in  contemplation,  that  is  to  say,  in 
blaspheming,  cursing,  and  sometimes  singing  and  whis- 
tling. At  last,  when  cold  and  hunger  had  almost  subdued 
his  native  fierceness,  it  being  a  good  deal  past  midnight 
and  extremely  dark,  he  thought  he  beheld  a  light  at  a 
distance,  which  the  cloudiness  of  the  sky  prevented  his 
mistaking  for  a  star ;  this  light,  however,  did  not  seem 
to  approach  him,  at  least  it  approached  by  such  imper- 
ceptible degrees  that  it  gave  him  very  little  comfort, 
and  at  length  totally  forsook  him.  He  then  renewed  his 
contemplation  as  before,  in  which  he  continued  till  the 
day  began  to  break,  when,  to  his  inexpressible  delight, 
he  beheld  a  sail  at  a  very  little  distance,  and  which  luckily 


94  JONATHAN    WILD. 

seemed  to  be  making?  towards  liim.  He  was  likewise 
soon  espied  by  those  in  the  vessel,  who  wanted  no  sig- 
nals to  inform  them  of  his  distress,  and,  as  it  was  almost 
a  calm,  and  their  course  lay  within  five  hundred  yards 
of  him,  they  hoisted  out  their  boat  and  fetched  him 
aboard. 

The  captain  of  this  ship  was  a  Frenchman ;  she  was 
laden  with  deal  from  Norway,  and  had  been  extremely 
shattered  in  the  late  storm.  This  captain  was  of  that 
kind  of  men  who  are  actuated  by  general  humanity,  and 
whose  compassion  can  be  raised  by  the  distress  of  a  fel- 
low-creature, though  of  a  nation  whose  king  hath  quar- 
reled with  the  monarch  of  their  own.  He  therefore, 
commiserating  the  circumstances  of  Wild,  who  had 
dressed  up  a  story  proper  to  impose  upon  such  a  silly 
fellow,  told  him  that,  as  himself  well  knew,  he  must  be  a 
prisoner  on  his  arrival  in  France,  but  that  he  would 
endeavor  to  procure  his  redemption ;  for  which  our  hero 
greatly  thanked  him.  But,  as  they  were  making  very 
slow  sail  (for  they  had  lost  their  mainmast  in  the  storm), 
Wild  saw  a  little  vessel  at  a  distance,  they  being  within 
a  few  leagues  of  the  English  shore,  which,  on  inquiry,  he 
was  informed  Avas  probably  an  English  fishing-boat. 
And,  it  being  then  perfectly  calm,  he  proposed  that,  if 
they  would  accommodate  him  with  a  pair  of  scullers,  he 
could  get  within  reach  of  the  boat,  at  least  near  enough 
to  make  signals  to  her ;  and  he  preferred  any  risk  to  the 
certain  fate  of  being  a  prisoner.  As  his  courage  was 
somewhat  restored  by  the  provisions  (especially  brandy) 
with  which  the  Frenchman  had  supplied  him,  he  was  so 
earnest  in  his  entreaties,  that  the  captain,  after  many 
persuasions,  at  length  complied,  and  he  was  furnished 
with  scullers,  and  with  some  bread,  pork,  and  a  bottle  of 
brandy.  Then,  taking  leave  of  his  preservers,  he  again 
betook  himself  to  his  boat,  and  rowed  so  heartily  that 
he  soon  came  within  the  sight  of  the  fisherman,  who  im- 
mediately made  towards  him  and  took  him  aboard. 


JONATHAN  WILD.  95 

No  sooner  was  Wild  got  safe  on  board  the  fisherman 
than  he  begged  him  to  make  the  utmost  speed  into  Deal, 
for  that  the  vessel  which  was  still  in  sight  was  a  dis- 
tressed Frenchman,  bound  for  Havre  de  Grace,  and 
might  easily  be  made  a  prize  if  there  was  any  ship  ready 
to  go  in  pursuit  of  her.  So  nobly  and  greatly  did  our 
hero  neglect  all  obligations  conferred  on  him  by  the 
enemies  of  his  country,  that  he  would  have  contributed 
all  he  could  to  the  taking  his  benefactor,  to  whom  he 
owed  both  his  life  and  his  liberty. 

The  fisherman  took  his  advice,  and  soon  arrived  at 
Deal,  where  the  reader  will,  I  doubt  not,  be  as  much  con- 
cerned as  Wild  was  that  there  was  not  a  single  ship 
prepared  to  go  on  the  expedition. 

Our  hero  now  saw  himself  once  more  safe  on  terra 
firma,  but  unluckily  at  some  distance  from  that  city 
where  men  of  ingenuity  can  most  easily  supply  their 
wants  without  the  assistance  of  money,  or  rather 
can  most  easily  procure  money  for  the  supply  of 
their  wants.  However,  as  his  talents  were  supe- 
rior to  every  difficulty,  he  framed  so  dexterous  an 
account  of  his  being  a  merchant,  having  been  taken 
and  plundered  by  the  enemy,  and  of  his  great  effects  in 
London,  that  he  was  not  only  heartily  regaled  by  the  fish- 
erman at  his  house,  but  made  so  handsome  a  booty  by 
way  of  borrowing,  a  method  of  taking  which  we  have 
before  mentioned  to  have  his  approbation,  that  he  was 
enabled  to  provide  himself  with  a  place  in  the  stage- 
coach ;  which  (as  God  permitted  it  to  perform  the  jour- 
ney) brought  him  at  the  appointed  time  to  an  inn  in  the 
metropolis. 

And  now,  reader,  as  thou  canst  be  in  no  suspense  for 
the  fate  of  our  great  man,  since  we  have  returned  him 
safe  to  the  principal  scene  of  his  glory,  we  will  a  little 
look  back  on  the  fortunes  of  Mr.  Heartfree,  whom  we  left 
in  no  very  pleasant  situation  ;  but  of  this  we  shall  treat 
in  the  next  book. 


96  JONATHAN  WILD, 


BOOK      III. 


CHAPTER  I. 

The  Imo  and  pitiful  behavior  of  Heartfree;  and  the  foolish  conduct 

of  his  apprentice. 

His  misfortunes  did  not  entirely  prevent  Heartfree  from 
closing-  his  eyes.  On  the  contrary,  he  slept  several  hours 
the  first  nig-ht  of  his  confinement.  However,  he  perhaps 
paid  too  severely  dear  both  for  his  repose  and  for  a  sweet 
dream  which  accompanied  it,  and  represented  his  little 
family  in  one  of  those  tender  scenes  which  had  frequently 
passed  in  the  days  of  his  happiness  and  prosperity,  when 
the  provision  they  were  making  for  the  future  fortunes 
of  their  children  used  to  be  one  of  the  most  agreeable 
topics  of  discourse  with  which  he  and  his  wife  entertained 
themselves.  The  pleasantness  of  this  vision,  therefore, 
served  only,  on  his  awaking,  to  set  forth  his  present 
misery  with  additional  horror,  and  to  heighten  the  dread- 
ful ideas  which  now  crowded  on  his  mind. 

He  had  spent  a  considerable  time  after  his  first  rising 
from  the  bed,  on  which  he  had,  without  undressing,  thrown 
himself,  and  now  began  to  wonder  at  Mrs.  Heartfree's 
long  absence ;  but  as  the  mind  is  desirous  (and  perhaps 
wisely  too)  to  comfort  itself  with  drawing  the  most  flat- 
tering conclusions  from  all  events,  so  he  hoped  the  longer 
her  stay  was  the  more  certain  was  his  deliverance.  At 
length  his  impatience  prevailed,  and  he  was  just  g^oing-  to 
despatch  a  messenger  to  his  own  house  when  his  appren- 
tice came  to  pay  him  a  visit,  and  on  his  inquiry  informed 
him  that  his  wife  had  departed  in  company  with  Mr. 
Wild  many  hours  before,  and  had  carried  all  his  most 
valuable  effects  with  her ;  adding  at  the  same  time  that 
she  had  herself  positively*-  acquainted  him  she  had  her 


JONATHAN  WILD.  97 

husband's  express  orders  for  so  doing-,  and  that  she  was 
g-one  to  Holland. 

It  is  the  observation  of  many  wise  men,  who  have 
studied  the  anatomy  of  the  human  soul  with  more  atten- 
tion than  our  young-  physicians  generally'-  bestow  on  that 
of  the  body,  that  g-reat  and  violent  surprise  hath  a  differ- 
ent effect  from  that  which  is  wroug-ht  in  a  good  house- 
wife by  perceiving  any  disorders  in  her  kitchen ;  who,  on 
such  occasions,  commonly  spreads  the  disorder,  not  only 
over  her  whole  family,  but  over  the  whole  neighborhood. 
— Now,  these  great  calamities,  especially  when  sudden, 
tend  to  stifle  and  deaden  all  the  faculties,  instead  of  rous- 
ing them ;  and  accordingly  Herodotus  tells  us  a  story  of 
Croesus,  king  of  Lydia,  who,  on  beholding  his  servants 
and  courtiers  led  captive,  wept  bitterly,  but,  when  he  saw 
his  wife  and  children  in  that  condition,  stood  stupid  and 
motionless ;  so  stood  poor  Heartfree  on  this  relation  of 
his  apprentice,  nothing  moving  but  his  color,  which  en- 
tirely forsook  his  countenance. 

The  apprentice,  who  had  not  in  the  least  doubted  the 
veracity  of  his  mistress,  perceiving  the  surprise  which 
too  visibly  appeared  in  his  master,  became  speechless 
likewise,  and  both  remained  silent  some  minutes,  gazing 
with  astonishment  and  horror  at  each  other.  At  last 
Heartfree  cried  out  in  an  agony,  "  My  wife  deserted  me 
in  my  misfortunes  !  " — "  Heaven  forbid,  sir  !  "  answered 
the  other. — "  And  what  is  become  of  my  poor  children  ?  " 
replied  Heartfree. — "They  are  at  home,  sir,"  said  the 
apprentice. — "  Heaven  be  praised  !  She  hath  forsaken 
them  too!"  cries  Heartfree:  "fetch  them  hither  this 
instant.  Go,  my  dear  Jack,  bring  hither  my  little  all 
which  remains  now :  fly,  child,  if  thou  dost  not  intend 
likewise  to  forsake  me  in  my  afflictions."  The  youth 
answered  he  would  die  sooner  than  entertain  such  a 
thought,  and,  begging  his  master  to  be  comforted,  in- 
stantly obeyed  his  orders. 

Heartfree,  the  moment  the  young  man  was  departed. 


98  JONATHAN  WILD. 

threw  himself  on  liis  bed  in  an  agony  of  despair;  but, 
recollecting'  himself  after  he  had  vented  the  first  sallies 
of  his  passion,  he  began  to  question  the  infidelity  of  his 
wife  as  a  matter  impossible.  He  ran  over  in  his  thoughts 
the  uninterrupted  tenderness  which  she  had  always  sho\NTi 
him,  and,  for  a  minute,  blamed  the  rashness  of  his  belief 
against  her ;  till  the  many  circumstances  of  her  having 
left  him  so  long,  and  neither  writ  nor  sent  to  him  since 
her  departure  with  all  his  effects  and  with  Wild,  of  whom 
he  was  not  before  without  suspicion,  and,  lastly  and 
chiefly ,  her  false  pretense  to  his  commands,  entirely  turned 
the  scale,  and  convinced  him  of  her  disloyalty. 

While  he  was  in  these  agitations  of  mind,  the  good  ap- 
prentice, who  had  used  the  utmost  expedition,  brought 
his  children  to  him.  He  embraced  them  with  the  most 
passionate  fondness,  and  imprinted  numberless  kisses  on 
their  little  lips.  The  little  girl  flew  to  him  with  almost 
as  much  eagerness  as  he  himself  expressed  at  her  sight, 
and  cried  out,  "  O  papa,  why  did  you  not  come  home  to 
poor  mamma  all  this  while  ?  I  thought  you  would  not 
have  left  3'our  little  Nancy  so  long. ' '  After  which  he  asked 
her  for  her  mother,  and  was  told  she  had  kissed  them 
both  in  the  morning,  and  cried  very  much  for  his  absence. 
All  which  brought  a  flood  of  tears  into  the  eyes  of  this 
weak,  silly  man,  who  had  not  greatness  sufficient  to  con- 
quer these  low  efforts  of  tenderness  and  humanity. 

He  then  proceeded  to  inquire  of  the  maid-servant,  who 
acquainted  him  that  she  knew  no  more  than  that  her 
mistress  had  taken  leave  of  her  children  in  the  morning 
with  many  tears  and  kisses,  and  had  recommended  them 
in  the  most  earnest  manner  to  her  care  ;  she  said  she  had 
promised  faithfully  to  take  care  of  them,  and  would, 
while  they  were  intrusted  to  her,  fulfill  her  promise.  For 
which  profession  Heartfree  expressed  much  gratitude  to 
her,  and,  after  indulging  himself  with  some  little  fond- 
ness, which  we  shall  not  relate,  he  delivered  his  children 
into  the  good  woman's  hands,  and  dismissed  her. 


JONATHAN  WILD,  99 


CHAPTER  II. 

A  soliliquy  of  Heartfree's,  full  of  low  and  base  ideas,  without  a  syl- 
lable O/.GREATNESS. 

Being  now  alone,  he  sat  some  short  time  silent,  and 
then  burst  forth  into  the  following  soliloquy: — 

*'  What  shall  I  do  ?  Shall  I  abandon  myself  to  a  dis- 
pirited despair,  or  fly  in  the  face  of  the  Almighty  ? 
Surely  both  are  unworthy  of  a  wise  man;  for  what  can 
be  more  vain  than  weakly  to  lament  my  fortune  if  irre- 
trievable, or,  if  hope  remains,  to  offend  that  Being  who 
can  most  strongly  support  it  ?  but  are  my  passions  then 
voluntary  !  Am  I  so  absolutely  their  master  that  I  can 
resolve  with  myself  so  far  only  will  I  grieve  ?  Certainlj'^, 
no.  Reason,  however,  we  flatter  ourselves,  hath  not 
such  despotic  empire  in  our  minds  that  it  can,  with  im- 
perial voice,  hush  all  our  sorrow  in  a  moment.  Where 
then  is  its  use  ?  For  either  it  is  an  empty  sound,  and  we 
are  deceived  in  thinking  we  have  reason,  or  it  is  given  us 
to  some  end,  and  hath  a  part  assigned  it  by  the  all- wise 
Creator.  Why,  what  can  its  office  be  other  than  justly 
to  weigh  the  worth  of  all  things,  and  to  direct  us  to  that 
perfection  of  human  wisdom  which  proportions  our  es- 
teem of  every  object  by  its  real  merit,  and  prevents  us 
from  over  or  under  valuing  whatever  we  hope  for,  we  en- 
joy, or  we  lose.  It  doth  not  foolishly  say  to  us,  Be  not 
glad,  or.  Be  not  sorry,  which  would  be  as  vain  and  idle 
as  to  bid  the  purling  river  cease  to  run,  or  the  waging 
wind  to  blow.  It  prevents  us  only  from  exulting,  like 
children,  when  we  receive  a  toy,  or  from  lamenting  when 
we  are  deprived  of  it.  Suppose  then  I  have  lost  the  en- 
joyments of  this  world,  and  my  expectation  of  future 
pleasure  and  profit  is  for  ever  disappointed,  what  relief 
can  my  reason  afford  ?  What,  unless  it  can  show  me  I 
had  fixed  my  affections  on  a  toy;  that  what  I  desired  was 


100  JONATHAN  WILD. 

not,  by  a  wise  man,  eagerly  to  be  affected,  nor  its  loss 
violently  deplored  ?  for  there  are  toys  adapted  to  all 
ages,  from  the  rattle  to  the  throne;  and  perhaps  the  value 
of  all  is  equal  to  tlieir  several  possessors;  for  if  the  rattle 
pleases  the  ear  of  the  infant  what  can  the  flattery  of  syco- 
phants give  more  to  the  prince  ?  The  latter  is  as  far  from 
examining  into  the  reality  and  source  of  his  pleasure  as 
the  former;  for  if  both  did,  they  must  both  equally  de- 
spise it.  And  surely,  if  we  consider  them,  seriously,  and 
compare  them  together,  we  shall  be  forced  to  conclude  all 
those  pomps  and  pleasures  of  which  men  are  so  fond,  and 
which,  through  so  much  danger  and  difficulty,  with  such 
violence  and  villain}'-,  they  p;irsue,  to  be  as  worthless 
trifles  as  any  exposed  to  sale  in  a  toy  shop.  I  have  often 
noted  my  little  girl  viewing  with  eager  eyes  a  jointed 
baby;  I  have  marked  the  pains  and  solicitations  she  hath 
used  till  I  have  been  prevailed  on  to  indulge  her  with  it. 
At  her  first  obtainmg  it,  what  joy  hath  sparkled  in  her 
countenance  !  with  what  raptures  hath  she  taken  posses- 
sion !  but  how  little  satisfaction  hath  she  found  in  it ! 
What  pains  to  work  out  her  amusement  from  it !  Its 
dress  niust  be  varied;  the  tinsel  ornaments  which  first 
caught  her  eyes  produce  no  longer  pleasure;  she  endeav- 
ors to  make  it  stand  and  walk  in  vain,  and  is  constrained 
herself  to  supply  it  with  conversation.  In  a  day's  time 
it  is  thrown  by  and  neglected,  and  some  less  costly  toy 
preferred  to  it.  How  like  the  situation  of  this  child  is 
that  of  every  man  !  What  difficulties  in  the  pursuit  of 
his  desires  !  what  inanity  in  the  possession  of  most,  and 
satiety  in  those  which  seem  more  real  and  substantial  I 
The  delights  of  most  men  are  as  childish  and  as  super- 
ficial as  that  of  my  little  girl;  a  feather  or  a  fiddle  are 
their  pursuits  and  their  pleasures  through  life,  even  to 
their  ripest  years,  if  such  men  may  be  said  to  attain  any 
ripeness  at  all.  But  let  us  survey  those  whose  under- 
standings are  of  a  more  elevated  and  refined  temper;  how 
emptj'  do  they  soon  find  the  world  of  enjoyments  worth 


JONATHAN  WILD.  101 

their  desire  or  attaining  !  How  soon  do  they  retreat  to 
sohtude  and  contemplation,  to  gardening-  and  planting, 
and  such  rural  amusements,  where  their  trees  and  they 
enjoy  the  air  and  the  sun  in  common,  and  both  vegetate 
with  very  little  difference  between  them.  But  suppose, 
(which  neither  truth  nor  wisdom  will  allow)  we  could  ad- 
mit something  more  valuable  and  substantial  in  these 
blessings,  would  not  the  uncertainty  of  their  possession 
be  alone  sufficient  to  lower  their  price  ?  How  mean  a 
tenure  is  that  at  the  will  of  fortune,  which  chance,  fraud, 
and  rapine  are  every  day  so  likely  to  deprive  us  of,  and 
often  the  more  likely  by  how  much  the  greater  worth  our 
possessions  are  off  !  Is  it  not  to  place  our  affections  on  a 
bubble  in  the  water,  or  on  a  picture  in  the  clouds  ?  What 
mad  man  would  build  a  fine  house  or  frame  a  beautiful 
garden  on  land  in  which  he  held  so  uncertain  an  interest? 
But  again,  was  all  this  less  undeniable,  did  Fortune,  the 
lady  of  our  manor,  lease  to  us  for  our  lives,  of  how  little 
consideration  must  even  this  term  appear  !  For,  admit- 
ting that  these  pleasures  were  not  liable  to  be  torn  from 
us,  how  certainly  must  we  be  torn  from  them  !  Perhaps 
to-morrow — nay  or  even  sooner;  for  asthe  excellent  poet 

says — 

Where  is  to-morrow  ? — In  the  other  world. 
To  thousands  this  is  true,  and  the  reverse 
Is  sure  to  none. 

But  if  I  have  no  further  hope  in  this  world,  can  I  have 
none  beyond  it?  Surely  those  laborious  writers,  who 
have  taken  such  infinite  pains  to  destroy  or  weaken  all 
the  proofs  of  futurity,  have  not  so  far  succeeded  as  to 
exclude  us  from  hope.  That  active  principle  in  man  which 
with  such  boldness  pushes  us  on  through  every  labor  and 
difficulty,  to  attain  the  most  distant  and  most  improbable 
event  in  this  world,  will  not  surely  deny  us  a  little  flat- 
tering prospect  of  those  beautiful  mansions  which,  if  they 
could  be  thought  chimerical,  must  be  allowed  the  loveliest 
which  can  entertain  the  eye  of  man;  and  to  which  the  road, 
if  we  understand  it  rightly,  appears  to  have  so  few  thorns 


102  JONATHAN    WILD. 

and  briars  in  it,  and  to  require  so  little  labor  and  fatigue 
from  those  who  shall  pass  through  it,  that  its  ways  are 
truly  said  to  be  ways  of  pleasantness,  and  all  its  paths 
to  be  those  of  peace.  If  the  proofs  of  Christianity  be  as 
strong-  as  I  imagine  them,  surely  enough  may  be  deduced 
from  that  ground  onl}'  to  comfort  and  support  the  most 
miserable  man  in  his  alllictions.  And  this  I  think  my 
reason  tells  me  that,  if  the  professors  and  propagators  of 
infidelity  are  in  the  right,  the  losses  which  death  brings 
to  the  virtuous  are  not  worth  their  lamenting ;  but  if 
these  are,  as  certainly  they  seem,  in  the  wrong,  the 
blessings  it  procures  them  are  not  sufficiently  to  be  coveted 
and  rejoiced  at. 

"  On  my  own  account  then,  I  have  no  cause  for  sorrow, 
but  on  my  children's  ! — Why  the  same  Being  to  whose 
goodness  and  power  I  intrust  my  own  happiness  is  like- 
wise as  able  and  willing  to  procure  theirs.  Nor  matters 
it  what  state  of  life  is  allotted  for  them,  whether  it  be  their 
fate  to  procure  bread  \^dth  their  own  labor,  or  to  eat  it  at 
the  sweat  of  others.  Perhaps,  if  w^e  consider  the  case 
with  proper  attention,  or  resolve  it  with  due  sincerity,  the 
former  is  much  the  sweeter.  The  hind  may  be  more 
happy  than  the  lord,  for  his  desires  are  fewer,  and  those 
such  as  are  attended  with  more  hope  and  less  fear.  I 
will  do  my  utmost  to  lay  the  foundations  of  my  children's 
happiness;  I  will  carefully  avoid  educating  them  in  a 
station  superior  to  their  fortune,  and  for  the  event  trust 
to  that  Being  in  whom  whoever  rightly  confides  must  be 
superior  to  all  worldly  sorrows." 

In  this  low  manner  did  this  poor  wretch  proceed  to 
argue,  till  he  had  worked  himself  up  into  an  enthusiasm 
which  by  degrees  soon  became  invulnerable  to  every 
human  attack ;  so  that  when  Mr.  Snap  acquainted  him 
with  the  return  of  the  writ,  and  that  he  must  carry  him 
to  Newgate,  he  received  the  message  as  Socrates  did  the 
news  of  the  ship's  arrival,  and  that  he  was  to  prepare  for 
death. 


JONATHAN   WILD.  103 

CHAPTER  III. 
Wherein  our  hero  proceeds  in  the  road  to  greatness. 

But  we  must  not  detain  our  reader  too  long  witli  these 
low  characters.  He  is  doubtless  as  impatient  as  the 
audience  at  the  theatre  till  the  principal  figure  returns  on 
the  stage  ;  we  will  therefore  indulge  his  inclination,  and 
pursue  the  actions  of  the  Great  Wild. 

There  happened  to  be  in  the  stage  coach  in  which  Mr. 
Wild  traveled  from  Dover  a  certam  young  gentleman 
who  had  sold  an  estate  in  Kent,  and  was  going  to  London 
to  receive  the  money.  There  was  likewise  a  handsome 
young  woman  who  had  left  her  parents  at  Canterbury,  and 
was  proceeding  to  the  same  city,  in  order  (as  she  informed 
her  fellow-travelers)  to  make  her  fortune.  With  this  girl 
the  young  spark  was  so  much  enamored  that  he  publicly 
acquainted  her  with  the  purpose  of  his  journey,  and  offered 
her  a  considerable  sum  in  hand  and  a  settlement  if  she 
would  consent  to  return  with  him  into  the  country,  where 
she  would  be  at  a  safe  distance  from  her  relations. 
Whether  she  accepted  this  proposal  or  no  we  are  not  able 
with  any  tolerable  certainty  to  deliver :  but  Wild,  the 
moment  he  heard  of  his  money,  began  to  cast  about  in  his 
mind  by  what  means  he  might  become  master  of  it.  He 
entered  into  a  long  harangue  about  the  methods  of  car- 
rying money  safely  on  the  road,  and  said,  he  had  at  that 
time  two  bank  bills  of  a  hundred  pounds  each  sewed  in 
his  coat;  "which,"  added  he,  "is  so  safe  a  way,  that  it 
is  almost  impossible  I  should  be  in  any  danger  of  being 
robbed  by  the  most  cunning  highwayman." 

The  young  gentleman,  who  was  no  descendant  of  Solo- 
mon, or,  if  he  was,  did  not  any  more  than  some  other 
descendants  of  wise  men,  inherit  the  wisdom  of  his  ances- 
tor, greatly  approved  Wild's  ingenuity,  and,  thanking 
him  for  his  information,  declared  he  would  follow  his 


104  JONATHAN  WILD. 

example  when  he  returned  into  the  countrj' ;  by  which 
means  he  proposed  to  save  the  premium  commonly  taken 
for  the  remittance.  Wild  had  then  no  more  to  do  but 
to  inform  himself  rig-htly  of  the  time  of  the  gentle- 
man's journey,  which  he  did  with  ^eat  certainty  before 
they  separated. 

At  his  arrival  in  town  lie  fixed  on  two  whom  he  re- 
garded as  the  most  resolute  of  his  gang  for  this  enter- 
prise; and,  accordingly,  having  summoned  the  principal, 
or  most  desperate,  as  he  imagined  him,  of  these  two  (for 
he  never  chose  to  communicate  in  the  presence  of  more 
than  one),  he  proposed  to  him  the  robbing  and  murdering 
of  this  gentleman. 

Mr.  Marybone  (for  that  was  the  gentleman's  name  to 
whom  he  applied)  readily  agreed  to  the  robbery,  but 
he  hesitated  at  the  murder.  He  said,  as  to  robbery,  he 
had,  on  much  weighing  and  considering  the  matter,  very 
well  reconciled  his  conscience  to  it;  for,  though  that 
noble  kind  of  robbery  which  was  executed  on  the  high- 
way was,  from  the  cowardice  of  mankind,  less  frequent, 
yet  the  baser  and  meaner  species,  sometimes  called  cheat- 
ing, but  more  commonly  known  by  the  name  of  robbery 
within  the  law,  was  in  a  manner  universal.  He  did  not 
therefore  pretend  to  the  reputation  of  being  so  much 
honester  than  other  people ;  but  could  by  no  means  satisfy 
himself  in  the  commission  of  murder,  which  was  a  sin  of 
the  most  heinous  nature,  and  so  immediately  prosecuted 
by  God's  judgment  that  it  never  passed  undiscovered  or 
unpunished. 

Wild,  with  the  utmost  disdain  in  his  countenance,  an- 
swered as  follows  :  "  Art  thou  he  whom  I  have  selected 
out  of  my  whole  gang  for  this  glorious  undertaking,  and 
dost  thou  cant  of  God's  revenge  against  murder  ?  You 
have,  it  seems,  reconciled  your  conscience  (a  pretty  word) 
to  robbery  from  its  bemg  so  common.  It  is  then  the 
novelty  of  murder  which  deters  ^-ou  ?  Do  3'ou  imagine 
that  guns,  and  pistols,  and  swords,  and  knives  are  the 


JONATHAN  WILD.  105 

only  instruments  of   death  ?     Look  into  the  world  and 
see  the  numbers  whom  broken  fortunes  and  broken  hearts 
bring  untimely  to  the  grave.    To  omit  those  glorious 
heroes  who,  to  their  immortal  honor,  have  massacred 
whole  nations,  what  think  you  of    private  persecution, 
treachery,  and  slander,  by  which  the  very  souls  of    men 
are  in  a  manner  torn  from  their  bodies  ?    Is  it  not  more 
generous,  nay,  more  good-natured,  to  send  a  man  to  his 
rest,  than,  after  having  plundered  him  of  all  he  hath,  or 
from  malice  or  malevolence  deprived  him  of  his  charac- 
ter, to  punish  him  with  a  languishing  death,  or,  what  is 
worse,  a  languishing  life  ?    Murder,  therefore,  is  not  so 
uncommon  as  you  weakly  conceive  it,  though,  as  you  said 
of  robbery,  that  more  noble  kind  which  lies  within  the 
paw  of  the  law  may  be  so.     But  this  is  the  most  innocent 
in  him  who  doth  it,  and  the  most  eligible  to  him  who  is 
to  suffer  it.    Believe  me,  lad,  the  tongue  of  a  viper  is  less 
hurtful  than  that  of  a  slanderer,  and  the  gilded  scales  of 
a  rattlesnake  less  dreadful  than  the  pulse  of  the  oppressor. 
Let  me  therefore  hear  no  more  of  your  scruples  ;  but  con- 
sent to  my  proposal  without  further  hesitation,  unless, 
like  a  woman,  you  are  afraid  of  blooding  your  clothes, 
or,  like  a  fool,  are  terrified  with  the  apprehensions  of  being 
hanged  in  chains.    Take  my  word  for  it,  you  had  better 
be  an  honest  man  than  half  a  rogue.    Do  not  think  of 
continuing  in  my  gang  without  abandoning  yourself  ab- 
solutely to  my  pleasure ;  for  no  man  shall  ever  receive  a 
favor  at  my  hands  who  sticks  at  anj^hing,  or  is  guided 
by  any  other  law  than  that  of  my  will." 

Wild  thus  ended  his  speech,  which  had  not  the  desired 
effect  on  Marybone  ;  he  agreed  to  the  robbery,  but  would 
not  undertake  the  murder,  as  Wild  (who  feared  that,  by 
Marybone's  demanding  to  search  the  gentleman's  coat, 
he  might  hazard  suspicion  himself)  insisted.  Marj^bone 
was  immediately  entered  by  Wild  in  his  black-book,  and 
was  presently  after  impeached  and  executed  as  a  fellow 
on  whom  his  leader  could  not  place  sufficient  dependence  ; 


lOG  JONATHAN  WILD. 

thus  falling,  as  many  rogues  do,  a  sacrifice,  not  to  his 
roguery,  but  to  his  conscience. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

In  which  a  young  hero,  of  ivondtrful  good  promise,  makes  his  first 
appearance,  with  many  other  oreat  matters. 

Our  hero  next  applied  himself  to  another  of  his  gang, 
who  instantly  received  his  orders,  and,  instead  of  hesi- 
tating at  a  single  murder,  asked  if  he  should  blow  out 
the  brains  of  all  the  passengers,  coachman  and  all.  But 
Wild,  whose  moderation  we  have  before  noted,  would 
not  permit  him ;  and  therefore,  having  given  him  an 
exact  description  of  the  devoted  person,  with  his  other 
necessary  instructions,  he  dismissed  him,  with  the  strict- 
est orders  to  avoid,  if  possible,  doing  hurt  to  any  other 
person. 

The  name  of  this  youth,  who  will  hereafter  make  some 
figure  in  this  history,  being  the  Achates  of  our  ^neas, 
or  rather  the  Haephestion  of  our  Alexander,  was  Fire- 
blood.  He  had  every  qualification  to  make  a  second- 
rate  GREAT  man ;  or,  in  other  words,  he  was  completely 
equipped  for  the  tool  of  a  real  or  first-rate  great  man. 
We  shall  therefore  (which  is  the  properest  way  of  deal- 
ing with,  this  kind  of  greatness)  describe  him  nega- 
tively, and  content  ourselves  with  telling  our  reader 
what  qualities  he  had  not ;  in  which  number  were 
humanity,  modesty,  and  fear,  not  one  grain  of  any  of 
which  was  mingled  in  his  whole  composition. 

We  will  now  leave  this  youth,  who  was  esteemed  the 
most  promising  of  the  whole  gang,  and  whom  Wild  often 
declared  to  be  one  of  the  prettiest  lads  he  had  ever  seen, 
of  which  opinion,  indeed,  were  most  other  people  of  his 
acquaintance;  we  will  however  leave  him  at  his  entrance 
on  this  enterprise,  and  keep  our  attention  fixed  on  our 


JONATHAN  WILD.  lOT 

hero,  whom  we  shall  observe  taking  large  strides  towards 
the  summit  of  human  glory. 

Wild,  immediately  at  his  return  to  town,  went  to  pay 
a  visit  to  Miss  Lsetitia  Snap;  for  he  had  that  weakness  of 
suffering  himself  to  be  enslaved  by  women,  so  naturally 
incident  to  men  of  heroic  disposition,  to  say  the  truth,  it 
might  more  properly  be  called  a  slavery  to  his  own  appe- 
tite; for,  could  he  have  satisfied  that,  he  had  not  cared 
three  farthings  what  had  become  of  the  little  tyrant  for 
whom  he  professed  so  violent  a  regard.  Here  he  was  in- 
formed that  Mr.  Heartfree  had  been  conveyed  to  New- 
gate the  day  before,  the  writ  being  then  returnable.  He 
was  somewhat  concerned  at  this  news;  not  from  any 
compassion  for  the  misfortunes  of  Heartfree,  whom  he 
hated  with  such  inveteracy  that  one  would  have  imagined 
he  had  suffered  the  same  injuries  from  him  which  he  had 
done  towards  him.  His  concern  therefore  had  another 
motive;  in  fact,  he  was  uneasy  at  the  place  of  Mr.  Heart- 
free's  confinement,  as  it  was  to  be  the  scene  of  his  future 
glory,  and  where  consequently  he  should  be  frequently 
obliged  to  see  a  face  which  hatred,  and  not  shame,  made 
him  detest  the  sight  of. 

To  prevent  this,  therefore,  several  methods  suggested 
themselves  to  him.  At  first  he  thought  of  removing  him 
out  of  the  way  by  the  ordinary  method  of  murder,  which 
he  doubted  not  but  Fireblood  would  be  very  readj^  to  exe- 
cute; for  that  youth  had,  at  their  last  interview,  sworn, 
D — n  his  eyes,  he  thought  there  was  no  better  pastime 
than  blowing  a  man's  brains  out.  But,  besides  the  danger 
of  this  method,  it  did  not  look  horrible  nor  barbarous 
enough  for  the  last  mischief  which  he  should  do  to  Heart- 
free.  Considering,  therefore,  a  little  farther  with  him- 
self, he  at  length  came  to  a  resolution  to  hang  him,  if 
possible,  the  very  next  sessions. 

Now,  though  the  observation — how  apt  men  are  to  hate 
those  they  injure,  or  how  unforgiving  they  are  of  the  in- 
juries they  do  themselves— be  common  enough,  yet  I  do 


108  JONATHAN  WILD. 

not  remember  to  have  ever  seen  the  reason  of  this 
strange  phenomenon  as  at  first  it  appears.  Know  there- 
fore, reader,  that  \vith  much  and  severe  scrutiny  we  have 
discovered  this  hatred  to  be  founded  on  the  passion  of 
fear,  and  to  arise  from  an  apprehension  that  the  person 
whom  we  have  ourselves  greatly  injured  will  use  all  pos- 
sible endeavors  to  revenge  and  retaliate  the  injuries  we 
have  done  him.  An  opinion  so  firmly'  established  in  bad 
and  great  minds  (and  those  who  confer  injuries  on  others 
have  seldom  very  good  or  mean  ones)  that  no  benevo- 
lence, nor  even  beneficence^  on  the  injured  side,  can  eradi- 
cate it.  On  the  contrary',  they  refer  all  these  acts  of 
kindness  to  imposture  and  design  of  lulling  their  suspi- 
cion, till  an  opportunity  offers  of  striking  a  surer  and 
severer  blow;  and  thus,  while  the  good  man  who  hath 
received  it  hath  truly  forgotten  the  injury,  the  evil  mind 
which  did  it  hath  it  in  lively  and  fresh  remembrance. 

As  we  scorn  to  keep  any  discoveries  secret  from  our 
readers,  whose  instruction,  as  well  as  diversion,  we  have 
greatly  considered  in  this  history,  we  have  here  digressed 
somewhat  to  communicate  the  following  short  lesson  to 
those  who  are  simple  and  well  inclined:  though  as  a 
Christian  thou  art  obliged,  and  we  advise  thee,  to  forgive 
thy  enemy,  never  trust  the  man  who  hath  reason  to 

SUSPECT  that  you  KNOW  HE  HATH  INJURED  YOU. 


CHAPTER  V. 

More  and  more  greatness,  unparalleled  in  history  or  romance. 

In  order  to  accomplish  this  great  and  noble  scheme, 
which  the  vast  genius  of  Wild  had  contrived,  the  first 
necessary  step  was  to  regain  the  confidence  of  Heartfree. 
But,  however  necessary  this  was,  it  seemed  to  be 
attended  with  such  insurmountable  difficulties,  that  even 
our  hero  for  some  time  despaired  of  success.  He  was 
greatly  superior  to  all  mankind  in  the  steadiness  of  his 


JONATHAN  WILD.  109 

countenance,  but  this  undertaking  seemed  to  require 
more  of  that  noble  quality  than  had  ever  been  the  portion 
of  a  mortal.  However,  at  last  he  resolved  to  attempt  it, 
and  from  his  success  I  think  we  may  fairly  assert  that 
what  was  said  by  the  Latin  poet  of  labor,  that  it  conquers 
all  things,  is  much  more  true  when  applied  to  im- 
pudence. 

When  he  had  formed  his  plan  he  when  to  Newgate,  and 
burst  resolutely  into  the  presence  of  Heartfree,  whom  he 
eagerly  embraced  and  kissed  ;  and  then,  first  arraigning 
his  own  rashness,  and  afterwards  lamenting  his  unfor- 
tunate want  of  success,  he  acquamted  him  with  the 
particulars  of  what  had  happened  ;  concealing  only  that 
single  incident  of  his  attack  on  the  other's  wife,  and  his 
motive  to  the  undertaking,  which,  he  assured  Heartfree, 
was  a  desire  to  preserve  his  effects  from  a  statute  of 
bankruptcj^ 

The  frank  openness  of  this  declaration,  with  the  com- 
posure of  countenance  with  which  it  was  delivered ;  his 
seeming  only  ruffled  by  the  concern  for  his  friend's  mis- 
fortune ;  the  probability  of  truth  attending  it,  joined  to 
the  boldness  and  disinterested  appearance  of  this  visit, 
together  with  his  many  professions  of  immediate  service 
at  a  time  when  he  could  not  have  the  least  visible  motive 
from  self-love ;  and  above  all,  his  offering  him  money, 
the  last  and  surest  token  of  friendship,  rushed  with  such 
united  force  on  the  well-disposed  heart,  as  it  is  vulgarly 
called,  of  this  simple  man,  that  they  instantly  staggered 
and  soon  subverted  all  the  determination  he  had  before 
made  in  prejudice  of  Wild,  who,  perceiving  the  balance 
to  be  turning  in  his  favor,  presently  threw  in  a  hundred 
imprecations  on  his  own  foLly  and  ill-advised  forwardness 
to  serve  his  friend,  which  had  thus  unhappily  produced 
his  ruin  ;  he  added  as  many  curses  on  the  count,  whom  he 
vowed  to  pursue  with  revenge  all  over  Europe  ;  lastly, 
he  cast  in  some  grains  of  comfort,  assuring  Heartfree 
that  his  wife  was  fallen  into  the  gentlest  hands,  that  she 


110  JONATHAN  WILD, 

would  be  cprried  no  farther  tlian  Dunkirk,  whence  she 
might  very  easily  be  redeemed. 

Heartfree,  to  whom  the  lig^htest  presumption  of  his 
wife's  fidelity  would  have  been  more  delicious  than  the 
absolute  restoration  of  all  his  jewels,  and  who,  indeed, 
had  with  the  utmost  dilliculty  been  brought  to  entertain 
the  slightest  suspicion  of  her  inconstancy,  immediately 
abandoned  all  distrust  of  both  her  and  his  friend,  whose 
sincerity  (luckily  for  Wild's  purpose)  seemed  to  him  to 
depend  on  the  same  evidence.  He  then  embraced  our 
hero,  who  had  in  his  countenance  all  the  symptoms  of  the 
deepest  concern,  and  begged  him  to  be  comforted  ;  saying 
that  the  intentions,  rather  than  the  actions  of  men,  con- 
ferred obligations  ;  that  as  to  the  event  of  human  affairs, 
it  was  governed  either  by  chance  or  some  superior 
agent ;  that  friendship  was  concerned  only  in  the  direc- 
tion of  our  designs ;  and  suppose  these  failed  of  success, 
or  produced  an  event  never  so  contrary  to  their  aim,  the 
merit  of  a  good  intention  was  not  in  the  least  lessened, 
but  was  rather  entitled  to  compassion. 

Heartfree  however  was  soon  curious  enough  to  inquire 
how  Wild  had  escaped  the  captivity  which  his  wife  then 
suffered.  Here  likewise  he  recounted  the  whole  truth, 
omitting  only  the  motive  to  the  French  captain's  cruelty, 
for  which  he  assigned  a  very  different  reason,  namely, 
his  attempt  to  secure  Heartfree's  jewels.  Wild  mdeed 
always  kept  as  much  truth  as  was  possible  in  every- 
thing ;  and  this  he  said  was  turning  the  cannon  of  the 
enemy  upon  themselves. 

Wild,  having  thus  with  admirable  and  truly  laudable- 
conduct  achieved  the  first  step,  began  to  discourse  on  the 
badness  of  the  world,  and  particularly  to  blame  the 
severity  of  creditors,  who  seldom  or  never  attend  to  any 
unfortunate  circumstances,  but  without  mercy  inflicted 
conflnement  on  the  debtor,  whose  body  the  law,  with  very 
unjustifiable  rigor,  delivered  into  their  power.  He  added, 
that  for  his  part,  he  looked  on  this  restraint  to  be  as 


JONATHAN  WILD.  ill 

heavy  a  punishment  as  any  appointed  by  law  for  the 
greatest  offenders.  That  the  loss  of  liberty  was,  in  his 
opinion,  equal  to,  if  not  worse  than,  the  loss  of  life  ;  that 
he  had  always  determined,  if  by  any  accident  or  mis- 
fortune he  had  been  subjected  to  the  former,  he  would 
run  the  greatest  risk  of  the  latter  to  rescue  himself  from 
it ;  which,  he  said,  if  men  did  not  want  resolution,  was 
always  enough  ;  for  that  it  was  ridiculous  to  conceive 
that  two  or  three  men  could  confine  two  or  three  hundred, 
unless  the  prisoners  were  either  fools  or  cowards,  especi- 
ally when  they  were  neither  chained  nor  fettered.  He 
went  on  in  this  manner  till,  perceiving  the  utmost  atten- 
tion in  Heartfree,  he  ventured  to  propose  to  him  an  en- 
deavor to  make  his  escape,  which  he  said  might  easily  be 
executed;  that  he  would  himself  raise  a  party  in  the 
prison,  and  that,  if  a  murder  or  two  should  happen  in  the 
attempt,  he  (Heartfree)  might  keep  free  from  any  share 
either  in  the  guilt  or  in  the  danger. 

There  is  one  misfortune  which  attends  all  great  men 
and  their  schemes,  viz. — that,  in  order  to  carry  them  into 
execution,  they  are  obliged,  in  proposing"  their  purpose  to 
their  tools,  to  discover  themselves  to  be  of  that  disposi- 
tion in  which  certain  little  writers  have  advised  mankind 
to  place  no  confidence ;  an  advice  which  hath  been  some- 
times taken.  Indeed,  many  inconveniences  arise  to  the 
said  great  men  from  these  scribblers  publishing  without 
restraint  their  hints  or  alarms  to  society;  and  many 
^eat  and  glorious  schemes  have  been  thus  frustrated ; 
wherefore  it  were  to  be  wished  that  in  all  well-regulated 
governments  such  liberties  should  be  by  some  wholesome 
laws  restrained,  and  all  writers  inhibited  from  venting 
any  other  instructions  to  the  people  than  what  should  be 
first  approved  and  licensed  by  the  said  great  men,  or 
their  proper  instruments  or  tools  ;  by  which  means  noth- 
ing would  ever  be  published  but  what  made  for  the  ad- 
vancing their  most  noble  projects. 

Heartfree,  whose  suspicions  were  ag'ain  raised  by  this 


112  JONATHAN  WILD. 

advice,  viewing-  Wild  witli  inconceivable  disdain,  spoke 
as  follows:  "There  is  one  thing-  the  loss  of  -which  I 
should  deplore  infinitely  beyond  that  of  liberty  and  of 
life  also ;  1  mean  that  of  a  g-ood  conscience ;  a  blessing 
which  he  who  possesses  can  never  be  thoroughly  un- 
happy; for  the  bitterest  portion  of  life  is  by  this  so 
sweetened,  that  it  soon  becomes  palatable ;  whereas, 
without  it,  the  most  delicate  enjoyments  quickly  lose  all 
their  relish,  and  life  itself  grows  insipid,  or  rather 
nauseous,  to  us.  Would  you  then  lessen  my  misfortunes 
by  robbing  me  of  what  hath  been  my  only  comfort  under 
them,  and  on  which  I  place  my  dependence  of  being-  re- 
lieved from  them  ?  I  have  read  that  Socrates  refused  to 
save  his  life  by  breaking  the  laws  of  his  country,  and  de- 
parting from  his  prison  when  it  was  open.  Perhaps  my 
virtue  would  not  go  so  far ;  but  Heaven  forbid  liberty 
should  have  such  charms  to  tempt  me  to  the  perpetration 
of  so  horrid  a  crime  as  murder  !  As  to  the  poor  evasion 
of  committing  it  by  other  hands,  it  might  be  useful  indeed 
to  those  who  seek  only  the  escape  from  temporal  punish- 
ment, but  can  be  of  no  service  to  excuse  me  to  that  Being 
whom  I  chiefly  fear  offending ;  nay,  it  would  greatly  ag- 
gravate my  guilt  by  so  impudent  an  endeavor  to  impose 
upon  Him,  and  by  so  wickedly  involving  others  in  my 
crime.  Give  me,  therefore,  no  more  advice  of  this  kind  ; 
for  this  is  m^'-  great  comfort  in  all  my  afflictions,  that  it 
is  in  the  power  of  no  enemy  to  rob  me  of  my  conscience, 
nor  will  I  ever  be  so  much  my  own  enemj^  as  to  injure  it." 
Though  our  hero  heard  all  this  with  proper  contempt, 
he  made  no  direct  answer,  but  endeavored  to  evade  his 
proposal  as  much  as  possible,  which  he  did  with  admira- 
ble dexterity :  this  method  of  getting  tolerably  well  off, 
when  you  are  repulsed  in  your  attack  on  a  man's  con- 
science, may  be  styled  the  art  of  retreating,  in  which  the 
politician,  as  well  as  the  general,  hath  sometimes  a  won- 
derful  opportunity  of  displaying  his  great  abilities  in 
his  profession. 


JONATHAN  WILD.  113 

Wild  having-  made  this  admirable  retreat,  and  argued 
away  all  design  of  involving-  his  friend  in  the  guilt  of  mur- 
der, concluded,  however,  that  he  thought  him  rather  too 
scrupulous  in  not  attempting  his  escape;  and  then,  prom- 
ising to  use  all  such  means  as  the  other  would  permit  in 
his  service,  took  his  leave  for  the  present.  Heartfree, 
having  indulged  himself  an  hour  with  his  children,  re- 
paired to  rest,  which  he  enjoyed  quiet  and  undisturbed; 
whilst  Wild,  disdaining  repose,  sat  up  all  night,  consult- 
ing how  he  might  bring  about  the  final  destruction  of  his 
friend  without  being  beholden  to  any  assistance  from 
himself,  which  he  now  despaired  of  procuring.  With  the 
result  of  these  consultations  we  shall  acquaint  our  reader 
in  good  time,  but  at  present  we  have  matters  of  much 
more  consequence  to  relate  to  him. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

The  event  of  Fireblood's  adventure;  and  a  treaty  of  marriage,  which 
might  have  been  concluded  either  at  Smithfield  or  St.  James's. 

FiREBLOOD  returned  from  his  enterprise  unsuccessful. 
The  gentleman  happened  to  go  home  another  way  than 
he  had  intended ;  so  that  the  whole  design  miscarried. 
Fireblood  had  indeed  robbed  the  coach,  and  had  wantonly 
discharged  a  pistol  into  it,  which  slightly  wounded  one  of 
the  passengers  in  the  arm.  The  booty  he  met  with  was 
not  very  considerable,  though  much  greater  than  that 
with  which  he  acquainted  Wild;  for  of  eleven  pounds  in 
money,  two  silver  watches,  and  a  wedding-ring,  he  pro- 
duced no  more  than  two  guineas  and  the  ring,  which  he 
protested  with  numberless  oaths  was  his  whole  booty. 
However,  when  an  advertisement  of  the  robbery  was  pub- 
lished, with  a  reward  promised  for  the  ring  and  the 
watches,  Fireblood  was  obliged  to  confess  the  whole,  and 
to  acquaint  our  hero  where  he  had  pawned  the  watches; 


114  JONATHAN  WILD. 

which  Wild,  taking-  the  full  value  of  them  for  his  pains, 
restored  to  the  right  owner. 

He  did  not  fail  catechising  his  young  friend  on  this 
occasion.  He  said  he  was  sorry  to  see  any  of  his  gang 
guilty  of  a  breach  of  honor;  that  without  honor priggery 
was  at  an  end;  that  if  a  prig  hud  but  honorhe  would  over- 
look every  vice  in  the  world.  *'But,  nevertheless,"  said 
he,  *'I  will  forgive  you  this  time,  as  you  are  a  hopeful 
lad,  and  I  hope  never  afterwards  to  find  you  delinquent  in 
this  great  point." 

Wild  had  now  brought  his  gang  to  g-reat  regularity: 
he  was  obeyed  and  feared  by  them  all.  He  had  likewise 
established  an  office  where  all  men  who  were  robbed,  pay- 
ing the  value  only  (or  a  little  more)  of  their  g-oods,  might 
have  them  again.  This  was  of  notable  use  to  several  per- 
srns  w^ho  had  lost  pieces  of  plate  they  had  received  from 
their  grandmothers;  to  others  w^ho  had  a  particular  value 
for  certain  rings,  watches,  heads  of  canes,  snuff-boxes, 
&c.,  for  which  they  would  not  have  taken  twenty  times 
as  much  as  they  were  worth,  either  because  they  had 
them  a  little  while  or  a  long  time,  or  that  somebody  else  had 
had  them  before,  or  from  some  other  such  excellent  rea- 
son, which  often  stamps  a  greater  value  on  a  toy  than 
the  great  Bubble-boy  himself  would  have  the  impudence 
to  set  upon  it. 

By  these  means  he  seemed  in  so  promising  a  way  of 
procuring  a  fortune,  and  was  regarded  in  so  thriving  a 
light  by  all  the  gentlemen  of  his  acquaintance,  as  by  the 
keeper  and  turnkeys  of  Newgate,  by  Mr.  Snap,  and  others 
of  his  occupation,  that  Mr.  Snap  one  day,  taking  Mr. 
Wild  the  elder  aside,  very  seriously  proposed  what  they 
had  often  lightly  talked  over,  a  strict  union  between  their 
families,  by  marrying  his  daughter  Tishy  to  our  hero. 
This  proposal  was  very  readily  accepted  by  the  old 
gentleman,  who  promised  to  acquaint  his  son  with  it. 

On  the  morrow  on  which  this  message  was  to  be  deliv- 
ered, our  hero,  little  dreaming  of  the  happiness  which,  of 


JONATHAN  WILD.  115 

his  own  accord,  was  advancing-  so  near  towards  him,  had 
called  Fireblood  to  him ;  and,  after  informmg-  that  youth 
of  the  violence  of  his  passion  for  the  young"  lady,  and  as- 
suring- him  what  confidence  he  reposed  in  him  and  his 
honor,  he  despatched  him  to  Miss  Tishy  with  the  follow- 
ing- letter ;  which  we  here  insert,  not  only  as  we  take  it  to 
be  extremely  curious,  but  to  be  a  much  better  pattern  for 
that  epistolary  kind  of  writing-  which  is  g-enerally  called 
love-letters  than  any  to  be  found  in  the  academy  of  com- 
pliments, and  which  we  challeng-e  all  the  beaux  of  our 
time  to  excel  either  in  matter  or  spelling-. 

Most  deivine  and  adwhorable  creeture, — 

I  doubt  not  but  those  lis,  briter  than,  the  son,  which  have 
kindled  such  a  flam  in  my  hart,  have  likewise  the  faculty  of  seeing 
it.  It  would  be  the  hiest  preassumption  to  imagin  you  eggnorant 
of  my  loav.  No,  madam,  I  sollemly  purtest,  that  of  all  the  butys 
in  the  unaversal  glob,  there  is  none  kapable  of  hateracting  my  lis 
like  you.  Corts  and  pallaces  would  be  to  me  deserts  without  your 
kumpany,  and  with  it  a  wilderness  would  have  more  charms  than 
haven  itself.  For  I  hop  you  will  beleve  me  when  I  sware  every 
every  place  in  the  universe  is  a  haven  with  you.  I  am  konvinced 
you  must  be  sinsibel  of  my  violent  passion  for  you,  which,  if  I  en- 
devored  to  hid  it,  would  be  as  impossible  as  for  you,  or  the  son,  to 
hid  your  buty's.  I  assure  you  I  have  not  slept  a  wink  since  I  had 
the  happiness  of  seeing  you  last ;  therefore  hop  you  will,  out  of 
Kumpassion,  let  me  have  the  honor  of  seeing  you  this  afterniine  ; 
for  I  am,  with  ;the  greatest  adwhoration,  most  deivine  creeture, 
your  most  passionate  amirer,  adwhorer,  and  slave, 

Jonathan  Wyld. 

If  the  spelling  of  this  letter  be  not  so  strictly  ortho- 
graphical, the  reader  will  be  pleased  to  remember  that 
such  a  defect  might  be  worthy  of  censure  in  a  low  and 
scholastic  character,  but  can  be  no  blemish  in  that  sub- 
lime greatness  of  which  we  endeavor  to  raise  a  complete 
idea  in  this  history.  In  which  kind  of  composition  spell- 
ing, or  indeed  any  kind  of  human  literature,  hath  never 
been  thought  a  necessary  ingredient ;  for  if  these  sort  of 
great  personages  can  but  complot  and  contrive  their  no- 
ble schemes,   and  hack  and  hew  mankind    sufficiently, 


116  JONATHAN  WILD. 

there  will  never  be  wanting-  fit  and  able  persons  who  can 
spell  to  record  their  praises.  Again,  if  it  should  be  ob- 
served that  the  style  of  this  letter  doth  not  exactly  cor- 
respond with  that  of  our  hero's  speeches  which  we  have 
here  recorded,  we  answer,  it  is  sufllcient  if  in  these  the 
historian  adheres  faithfully  to  the  matter,  though  he  em- 
bellishes the  diction  with  some  flourishes  of  his  own  elo- 
quence, without  which  the  excellent  speeches  recorded  in 
ancient  historians  (particularly  in  Sallust)  would  have 
scarce  been  found  in  their  w'ritings.  Nay,  even  amongst 
the  moderns,  famous  as  t\\Qy  are  for  elocution,  it  may  be 
doubted  whether  those  inimitable  harangues  published  in 
the  monthly  magazines  came  literally  from  the  mouths  of 
the  HuRGOS,  &c.,  as  they  are  there  inserted,  or  whether 
we  may  not  rather  suppose  some  historian  of  great  elo- 
quence hath  borrowed  the  matter  only,  and  adorned  it 
with  those  rhetorical  flowers  for  which  many  of  the  said 
HuRGOS  are  not  so  extremely  eminent. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

Matters  preliminary  to  the  marriage  between  Mr.  Jonathan  Wild 
and  the  chaste  Lcetitia. 

But  to  proceed  with  our  history  ;  Fireblood,  having  re- 
ceived this  letter,  and  promised  on  his  honor,  with  many 
voluntary  asseverations,  to  discharge  the  embassy  faith- 
fully, went  to  visit  the  fair  Lietitia.  The  lady,  having 
opened  the  letter  and  read  it,  put  on  an  air  of  disdain, 
and  told  Mr.  Fireblood  she  could  not  conceive  what  Mr. 
Wild  meant  b^'  troubling  her  with  his  impertinence ;  she 
begged  him  to  carry  the  letter  back  again,  sa;y  ing,  had 
she  known  from  whom  it  came,  she  would  have  been  d — d 
before  she  had  opened  it.  "  But  with  you,  young"  gentle- 
man," says  she,  **  I  am  not  in  the  least  angry.  I  am 
rather  sorry  that  so  pretty  a  young-  man  should  be  em- 


JONATHAN  WILD.  117 

ployed  in  such  an  errand."  She  accompanied  these  words 
with  so  tender  an  accent  and  so  wanton  a  leer,  that  Fire- 
blood,  who  was  no  backward  youth,  began  to  take  her  by 
the  hand,  and  proceeded  so  warmly,  that,  to  imitate  his 
actions  with  the  rapidity  of  our  narration,  he  in  a  few 
minutes  ravished  this  fair  creature,  or  at  least  would 
have  ravished  her,  if  she  had  not,  by  a  timely  compliance, 
prevented  him. 

Fireblood,  after  he  had  ravished  as  much  as  he  could, 
returned  to  Wild,  and  acquainted  him,  as  far  as  any  wise 
man  would,  with  what  had  passed  ;  concluding- with  many 
praises  of  the  young  lady's  beauty,  with  whom,  he  said, 
if  his  honor  would  have  permitted  him,  he  should  himself 
have  fallen  in  love ;  but,  d — n  him  if  he  would  not  sooner 
be  torn  in  pieces  by  wild  horses  than  even  think  of  injur- 
ing his  friend.  He  asserted  mdeed,  and  swore  so  heartily, 
that,  had  not  Wild  been  so  thoroughly  convinced  of  the 
impregnable  chastity  of  the  lady,  he  might  have  suspect- 
ed his  success ;  however,  he  was,  by  these  means,  entire- 
ly satisfied  of  his  friend's  inclination  towards  his  mistress. 

Thus  constituted  were  the  love  affairs  of  our  hero  when 
his  father  brought  him  Mr.  Snap's  proposal.  The  reader 
must  know  very  little  of  love,  or  indeed  of  anything  else,  if 
he  requires  any  information  concerning  the  reception  which 
this  proposal  met  with.  Not  guilty  never  sounded  sweeter 
in  the  ears  of  a  prisoner  at  the  bar,  nor  the  sound  of  a 
reprieve  to  one  at  the  gallows,  than  did  every  word  of 
the  old  gentleman  in  the  ears  of  our  hero.  He  gave  his 
father  full  power  to  treat  in  his  name,  and  desired  nothing 
more  than  expedition. 

The  old  people  now  met,  and  Snap,  who  had  informa- 
tion from  his  daughter  of  the  violent  passion  of  her  lover, 
endeavored  to  improve  it  to  the  best  advantage,  and 
would  have  not  only  declined  givmg  her  any  fortune  him- 
self, but  have  attempted  to  cheat  her  of  what  she  owed 
to  the  liberality  of  her  relations,  particularly  of  a  pint 
silver  caudle-cup,  the  gift  of  her  grandmother.    How-' 


113  JONATHAN   WILD. 

ever,  in  this  the  youn^'  lady  herself  afterwards  took  care 
to  prevent  him.  As  to  the  old  Mr.  Wild,  he  did  not  suf- 
ficiently attend  to  all  the  designs  of  Snap,  as  his  faculties 
were  busily  employed  in  designs  of  his  own,  to  overreach 
(or,  as  others  express  it,  to  cheat)  the  said  Mr.  Snap,  by 
pretending  to  give  his  son  a  whole  number  for  a  chair, 
when  in  reality  he  was  entitled  to  a  third  only. 

While  matters  w^ere  thus  settling  between  the  old  folks, 
the  3'oung  lady  agreed  to  admit  Mr.  Wild's  visits,  and, 
by  degrees,  began  to  entertain  hira  with  all  the  show  of 
affection  which  the  great  natural  reserve  of  her  temper, 
and  the  great  artificial  reserve  of  her  education,  would 
permit.  At  length,  everythmg  being  agreed  between 
the  parents,  settlements  made,  and  the  lady's  fortune 
(to  wit,  seventeen  pounds  and  nine  shillings  in  money  and 
goods)  paid  down,  the  day  for  their  nuptials  was  fixed, 
and  they  were  celebrated  accordmgly. 

Most  private  histories,  as  well  as  comedies,  end  at  this 
period ;  the  historian  and  the  poet  both  concluding  they 
have  done  enough  for  their  hero  when  they  have  married 
him  ;  or  intimating  rather  that  the  rest  of  his  life  must 
be  a  dull  calm  of  happiness,  very  delightful  indeed  to  pass 
through,  but  somew^hat  insipid  to  relate ;  and  matrimony 
in  general  must,  I  believe,  without  any  dispute,  be  al- 
lowed to  be  this  state  of  tranquil  felicity,  including  so 
little  variety,  that,  like  Salisbury  Plain,  it  affords  only 
one  prospect,  a  very  pleasant  one  it  must  be  confessed, 
but  the  same. 

Now  there  was  all  the  probability  imaginable  that  this 
contract  would  have  proved  of  such  happy  note,  both 
from  the  great  accomphshments  of  the  young  lady,  who 
was  thought  to  be  possessed  of  every  qualification  neces- 
sary to  make  the  marriage  state  happy,  and  from  the 
truly  ardent  passion  of  Mr.  Wild ;  but,  whether  it  was 
that  nature  and  fortune  had  great  designs  for  him  to  ex- 
ecute, and  would  not  suffer  his  vast  abilities  to  be  lost 
and  sunk  in  the  arms  of  a  wife,  or  whether  neither  nature 


JONATHAN  WILD.  119 

nor  fortune  had  any  hand  in  the  matter,  is  a  point  I  will 
not  determine.  Certain  it  is  that  this  match  did  not  pro- 
duce that  serene  state  we  have  mentioned  above,  but  re- 
sembled the  most  turbulent  and  ruffled,  rather  than  the 
most  calm,  sea. 

I  cannot  here  omit  a  conjecture,  ing-enious  enough,  of  a 
friend  of  mine,  who  had  a  long  intimacy  in  the  Wild 
family.  He  hath  often  told  me  he  fancied  one  reason  of 
the  dissatisfactions  which  afterwards  fell  out  between 
Wild  and  his  lady  arose  from  the  number  of  gallants  to 
whom  she  had,  before  marriage,  granted  favors;  for, 
says  he,  and  indeed  very  probable  it  is,  too,  the  lady 
might  expect  from  her  husband  what  she  had  before  re- 
ceived from  several,  and,  being-  angry  not  to  find  one  man 
as  good  as  ten,  she  had,  from  that  indignation,  taken 
those  steps  which  we  cannot  perfectly  justif3^ 

From  this  person  I  received  the  following  dialogue, 
which  he  assured  me  he  had  overheard  and  taken  down 
verbatim.  It  passed  on  the  day  fortnig-ht  after  they 
were  married. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

A  dialogue  matrimonial,  which  passed  between  Jonathan  Wild,  esq., 
and  Lcetitia  his  wife,  on  the  morning  of  the  day  fortnight  on 
which  his  nuptials  loere  celebrated  ;  which  concluded  more  ami. 
cably  than  those  debates  generally  do. 

Jonathan.  My  dear,  I  wish  you  would  lie  a  little  longer 
in  bed  this  morning-. 

Lcetitia.  Indeed  I  cannot ;  I  am  engaged  to  breakfast 
with  Jack  Strongbow. 

Jonathan.  I  don't  know  what  Jack  Strongbow  doth  so 
often  at  my  house.  I  assure  you  I  am  uneasy  at  it ;  for, 
though  I  have  no  suspicion  of  your  virtue,  yet  it  may  in- 
jure your  reputation  in  the  opinion  of  my  neighbors. 


120  JONATHAN  WILD. 

Lcetitia.  I  don't  trouble  1113'  head  about  my  neighbors; 
and  they  shall  no  more  tell  me  what  company  1  am  to 
keep  than  my  husband  shall. 

Jonathan.  A  g-ood  wife  would  keep  no  company  which 
made  her  husband  uneasy. 

Loititia.  You  might  have  found  one  of  those  good 
wives,  sir,  if  3'ou  had  pleased ;  I  had  no  objection  to  it. 

Jonathan.  I  thought  I  had  found  one  in  you. 

Lcetitia.  You  did  !  I  am  very  much  obliged  to  you 
for  thinking  me  so  poor-spirited  a  creature ;  but  1  hope 
to  convince  you  to  the  contrary.  What,  I  suppose  you 
took  me  for  a  raw  senseless  girl,  who  knew  nothing  what 
other  married  women  do  ! 

Jonathan.  No  matter  what  I  took  you  for;  I  have 
taken  you  for  better  or  worse. 

Lcetitia.  And  at  your  own  desire  too ;  for  I  am  sure 
you  never  had  mine.  I  should  not  have  broken  my  heart 
if  Mr.  Wild  had  thought  proper  to  bestow  himself  on  any 
other  more  happy  woman.     Ha,  ha  ! 

Jonathan.  I  hope,  madam,  you  don't  imagine  that  was 
not  in  my  power,  or  that  I  married  you  out  of  any  kind 
of  necessity. 

Lcetitia.  O  no,  sir ;  I  am  convinced  there  are  silly 
women  enough.  And  far  be  it  from  me  to  accuse  you  of 
any  necessity  for  a  wife.  I  believe  3'ou  could  have  been 
very  well  contented  with  the  state  of  a  bacbelor ;  I  have 
no  reason  to  complain  of  your  necessities ;  but  that,  you 
know,  a  woman  cannot  tell  beforehand. 

Jonathan.  I  can't  guess  what  you  would  insinuate,  for 
I  believe  no  woman  had  ever  less  reason  to  complain  of 
her  husband's  want  of  fondness. 

Lcetitia.  Then  some,  I  am  certain,  have  great  reason 
to  complain  of  the  price  they  give  for  them.  But  I  know 
better  things.  {These  words  ivere  spoken  with  a  very 
great  air,  and  toss  of  the  head.) 

Jonathan.  Well,  my  sweeting,  I  will  make  it  impossi- 
ble for  you  to  wish  me  more  fond. 


JONATHAN  WILD.  121 

Lcetitia.  Pray,  Mr.  Wild,  none  of  this  nauseous  beha- 
vior, nor  those  odious  words.  I  wish  you  were  fond  !  I 
assure  you,  I  don't  know  what  you  would  pretend  to  in- 
sinuate of  me.  I  have  no  wishes  which  misbecome  a  vir- 
tuous woman.  No,  nor  should  not,  if  I  had  married  for 
love.  And  especially  now,  when  nobody,  I  am  sure,  can 
suspect  me  of  any  such  thing. 

Jonathan.  If  you  did  not  marry  for  love  why  did  you 
marry  ? 

Lcetitia.  Because  it  was  convenient,  and  my  parents 
forced  me. 

Jonathan.  I  hope,  madam,  at  least,  you  will  not  tell  me 
to  my  face  you  have  made  your  convenience  of  me. 

Lcetitia.  I  have  made  nothing-  of  you  ;  nor  do  I  desire 
the  honor  of  making  anything-  of  you. 

Jonathan.  Yes,  you  have  made  a  husband  of  me. 

Lcetitia.  No,  you  made  yourself  so ;  for  I  repeat  once 
more  it  was  not  my  desire,  but  your  own. 

Jonathan.  You  should  think  yourself  obliged  to  me  for 
that  desire. 

Lcetitia.  La,  sir !  you  was  not  so  singular  in  it.  I  was 
not  in  despair.     I  have  had  other  offers,  and  better  too. 

Jonathan.  I  wish  you  had  accepted  them  with  all  my 
heart. 

Lcetitia.  I  must  tell  you,  Mr.  Wild,  this  is  a  very 
brutish  manner  of  treating  a  woman  to  whom  you  have 
such  obligations ;  but  I  know  how  to  despise  it,  and  to 
despise  you  too  for  showing  it  me.  Indeed  I  am  well 
enough  paid  for  the  foolish  preference  I  gave  to  you.  I 
flattered  myself  that  I  should  at  least  have  been  used 
with  good  manners.  I  thought  I  had  married  a  gentle- 
man ;  but  I  find  you  every  way  contemptible  and  below 
my  concern. 

Jonathan.  D— n  you,  madam,  have  I  not  more  reason 
to  complain  when  you  tell  me  you  married  me  for  your 
convenience  only  ? 

Lcetitia.  Very  fine  truly.    Is  it  behavior    worthy  a 


122  JONATHAN  WILD. 

man  to  swear  at  a  woman  ?  Yet  why  should  I  mention 
what  comes  from  a  wretch  whom  I  despise  ? 

Jonathan.  Don't  repeat  tliat  word  so  often.  I  despise 
you  as  heartily  as  you  can  me.  And,  to  tell  j'ou  a  truth, 
I  married  you  for  my  convenience  likewise,  to  satisfy  a 
passion  which  I  have  now  satisfied,  and  you  may  be  d — d 
for  anything  I  care. 

Lcetitia.  The  world  shall  know  how  barbarously  I  am 
treated  by  such  a  villain. 

Jonathan.  I  need  take  very  little  pains  to  acquaint  the 
world  what  a  b — ch  3'ou  are,  your  actions  will  demon- 
strate it. 

Loetitia.  Monster  !  I  would  advise  you  not  to  depend 
too  much  on  my  sex,  and  provoke  me  too  far  ;  for  I  can 
do  you  a  mischief,  and  will,  if  you  dare  use  me  so,  you  vil- 
lain ! 

Jonathan.  Beg-in  whenever  you  please,  madam ;  but 
assure  yourself,  the  moment  you  lay  aside  the  woman,  I 
will  treat  you  as  such  no  longer ;  and  if  the  first  blow  is 
yours,  I  promise  you  the  last  shall  be  mine. 

Loetitia.  Use  me  as  you  will ;  but  d — n  me  if  ever  you 
shall  use  me  as  a  woman  again ;  for  may  I  be  cursed  if 
ever  I  enter  into  your  bed  more. 

Jonathan.  May  I  De  cursed  if  that  abstinence  be  not 
the  greatest  obligation  you  can  lay  upon  me  ;  for  I  as- 
sure you  faithfully  your  person  was  all  I  had  ever  any 
regard  for;  and  that  I  now  loathe  and  detest  as  much  as 
ever  I  liked  it. 

Lcetitia.  It  is  impossible  for  two  people  to  agree  better ; 
for  I  always  detested  your  person  ;  and  as  for  any  other 
regard,  you  must  be  convinced  I  never  could  have  any 
for  3^ou. 

Jonathan.  Why,  then,  since  we  come  to  a  right  under- 
standing, as  we  are  to  live  together,  suppose  we  agreed, 
instead  of  quarrelling  and  abusing,  to  be  civil  to  each 
other. 

Lcetitia.  With  all  my  heart. 


JONATHAN  WILD.  123 

Jonathan.  Let  us  shake  hands  then,  and  henceforwards 
never  live  like  man  and  wife ;  that  is,  never  be  loving  nor 
ever  quarrel. 

Lcetitia.  Agreed.  But  pray,  Mr.  Wild,  why  b — ch  ? 
Why  did  you  suffer  such  a  word  to  escape  you  ? 

Jonathan.  It  is  not  worth  j-our  remembrance. 

Lcetitia.  You  agree  I  shall  converse  with  whomso- 
ever I  please  ? 

Jonathan.  Without  control.  And  I  have  the  same 
liberty  ? 

Lcetitia.  When  I  interfere  may  every  curse  you  can 
wish  attend  me ! 

Jonathan.  Let  us  now  take  a  farewell  kiss,  and  may  I 
be  hanged  if  is  not  the  sweetest  you  ever  gave  me. 

Lcetitia.  But  why  b — ch  ?  Methinks  I  should  be  glad 
to  know  why  b — ch  ? 

At  which  words  he  sprang  from  the  bed,  d — ing  her 
temper  heartily.  She  returned  it  again  with  equal  abuse, 
which  was  continued  on  both  sides  while  he  was  dressing. 
However,  they  agreed  to  continue  steadfast  in  this  new 
resolution ;  and  the  joy  arising  on  that  occasion  at  length 
dismissed  them  pretty  cheerfully  from  each  other,  though 
Lastitia  could  not  help  concluding  with  the  words,  why 
b— ch? 


CHAPTER  IX. 

Observations  on  the  foregoing  dialogue,  together  with  a  base  design 
on  our  hero,  which  must  be  detested  by  every  Zovero/ greatness. 

Thus  did  this  dialogue  (which,  though  we  have  termed 
it  matrimonial,  had  indeed  very  little  savor  of  the  sweets 
of  matrimony  in  it)  produce  at  last  a  resolution  more 
wise  than  strictly  pious,  and  which,  if  they  could  have 
rigidly  adhered  to  it,  might  have  prevented  some  un- 
pleasant moments  as  well  to  our  hero  as  to  his  serene  con- 
sort ;  but  their  hatred  was  so  very  great  and  unaccount- 


124  JONATHAN  WILD. 

able  that  they  never  could  bear  to  see  the  least  composure 
in  one  another's  countenance  without  attempting  to  rutlle 
it.  This  set  them  on  so  many  contrivances  to  plag-ue  and 
vex  one  another,  that,  as  their  proximity  alForded  them 
such  frequent  opportunities  of  executing  their  malicious 
purposes,  they  seldom  passed  one  easy  or  quiet  day  to- 
gether. 

And  this,  reader,  and  no  other,  is  the  cause  of  those 
many  inquietudes  which  thou  must  have  observed  to  dis- 
turb the  repose  of  some  married  couples  who  mistake 
implacable  hatred  for  indifference  ;  for  why  should  Cor- 
vinus,  who  lives  in  a  round  of  intrigue,  and  seldom  doth, 
and  never  willingly  would,  dally  with  his  wife,  endeavor 
to  prevent  her  from  the  satisfaction  of  an  intrigue  in  her 
turn?  Why  doth  Camilla  refuse  a  more  agreeable  invi- 
tation abroad,  only  to  expose  her  husband  at  his  own 
table  at  home  ?  In  short,  to  mention  no  more  instances, 
whence  can  all  the  quarrels,  and  jealousies,  and  jars  pro- 
ceed in  people  who  have  no  love  for  each  other,  unless 
from  that  noble  passion  above  mentioned,  that  desire, 
according  to  my  lady  Betty  Modish,  of  curing  each  other 
of  a  smile. 

We  thought  proper  to  give  our  reader  a  short  taste  of 
the  domestic  state  of  our  hero,  the  rather  to  show  him 
that  great  men  are  subject  to  the  same  frailties  and  incon- 
veniences in  ordinary  life  with  little  men,  and  that  heroes 
are  really  of  the  same  species  with  other  human  crea- 
tures, notwithstanding  all  the  pains  they  themselves  or 
their  flatterers  take  to  assert  the  contrary  ;  and  that 
they  differ  chiefly  in  the  immensity  of  their  greatness,  or, 
as  the  vulgar  erroneously  call  it,  villainy.  Now,  there- 
fore, that  we  may  not  dwell  too  long  on  low  scenes  in  a 
history  of  the  sublime  kind,  we  shall  return  to  actions  of 
a  higher  note  and  more  suitable  to  our  purpose. 

When  the  boy  Hymen  had,  with  his  lighted  torch, 
driven  the  boy  Cupid  out  of  doors,  that  is  to  say,  in  com- 
mon phrase,  when  the  violence  of  Mr.  Wild's  passion  (or 


JONATHAN  WILD.  125 

rather  appetite)  for  the  chaste  Laetitia  began  to  abate,  he 
returned  to  visit  his  friend  Heartfree,  who  was  now  in 
the  liberties  of  the  Fleet,  and  had  appeared  to  the  com- 
mission of  bankruptcy  against  him.  Here  he  met  w^th  a 
more  cold  reception  than  he  himself  had  apprehended. 
Heartfree  had  long  entertained  suspicions  of  Wild,  but 
these  suspicions  had  from  time  to  time  been  confounded 
with  circumstances,  and  principally  smothered  with  that 
amazing  confidence  which  was  indeed  the  most  striking 
virtue  in  our  hero.  Heartfree  was  unwilUng  to  condemn 
his  friend  without  certain  evidence,  and  laid  hold  on  every 
probable  semblance  to  acquit  him ;  but  the  proposal  made 
at  his  last  visit  had  so  totally  blackened  his  character  in 
this  poor  man's  opinion,  that  it  entirely  fixed  the  waver- 
ing scale,  and  he  no  longer  doubted  but  that  our  hero  was 
one  of  the  greatest  villains  in  the  world. 

Circumstances  of  great  improbability  often  escape  men 
who  devour  a  story  with  greedy  ears  j  the  reader,  there" 
fore,  cannot  wonder  that  Heartfree,  whose  passions  were 
so  variously  concerned,  first  for  the  fidelity,  and  secondly 
for  the  safety  of  his  wife ;  and,  lastly,  who  was  so  dis- 
tracted with  doubt  concerning  the  conduct  of  his  friend, 
should  at  this  relation  pass  unobserved  the  incident  of  his 
being  committed  to  the  boat  by  the  caiDtain  of  the  priva- 
teer, which  he  had  at  the  time  of  his  telling  so  lamely 
accounted  for ;  but  now,  when  Heartfree  came  to  reflect 
on  the  whole  and  with  a  high  prepossession  against  Wild, 
the  absurdity  of  this  fact  glared  in  his  eyes  and  struck 
him  in  the  most  sensible  manner.  At  length  a  thought 
of  great  horror  suggested  itself  to  his  imagination,  and 
this  was,  whether  the  whole  was  not  a  fiction,  and  Wild, 
who  was,  as  he  had  learned  from  his  own  mouth,  equal 
to  any  undertaking,  how  black  soever,  had  not  spirited 
away,  robbed,  and  murdered  his  wife. 

Intolerable  as  this  apprehension  was,  he  not  only 
turned  it  round  and  examined  it  carefully  in  his  own 
mind,  but  acquainted  young  Friendly  with  it  at  their  next 


12G  JONATHAN  WILD. 

interview.  Friendly,  who  detested  Wild  (from  that  envy- 
probably  with  which  these  great  characters  naturally 
inspire  low  fellows),  encouraged  these  suspicions  so 
much  that  Heartfree  resolved  to  attack  our  hero  and 
carry  him  before  a  magistrate. 

This  resolution  had  been  some  time  taken,  and 
Friendly,  with  a  warrant  and  a  constable,  had  with  the 
utmost  diligence  searched  several  days  for  our  hero ; 
but  whether  it  was  that  in  compliance  with  modern  cus- 
tom he  had  retired  to  spend  the  honeymoon  with  his 
bride,  the  only  moon,  indeed,  in  which  it  is  fashionable 
or  customary  for  the  married  parties  to  have  any  cor- 
respondence with  each  other  ;  or  perhaps  his  habitation 
might  for  particular  reasons  be  usually  kept  a  secret, 
like  those  of  some  few  great  men  whom  unfortunately 
the  law  hath  left  out  of  that  reasonable  as  well  as  hon- 
orable provision  which  it  hath  made  for  the  security  of 
the  persons  of  other  great  men. 

But  Wild  resolved  to  perform  works  of  supereroga- 
tion in  the  way  of  honor,  and,  though  no  hero  is  obliged 
to  answer  to  the  challenge  of  my  lord  chief  justice,  or 
indeed  of  any  other  magistrate,  but  may  with  unblem- 
ished reputation  slide  away  from  it,  yet  such  was  the 
bravery,  such  the  greatness,  the  magnanimity  of  Wild, 
that  he  appeared  in  person  to  it. 

Indeed  envy  may  say  one  thing,  which  may  lessen  the 
glory  of  this  action,  namely,  that  the  said  Mr,  Wild  knew 
nothing  of  the  said  warrant  or  challenge ;  and  as  thou 
mayest  be  assured,  reader,  that  the  malicious  fury  will 
omit  nothing  which  can  anyways  sully  so  great  a  char- 
acter so  she  hath  endeavored  to  account  for  this  second 
visit  of  our  hero  to  his  friend  Heartfree  from  a  very  dif- 
ferent motive  than  that  of  asserting  his  own  innocence. 


JONATHAN  WILD.  12: 


CHAPTER  X. 


Mr.  Wild  with  unprecedented  generosity  visits  his  friend  Heartfree, 
and  the  ungrateful  reception  he  met  with. 

It  hath  been  said  then  that  Mr.  Wild,  not  being  able 
on  the  strictest  examination  to  find  in  a  certain  spot  of 
human  nature  called  his  own  heart  the  least  grain  of  that 
pitiful  low  quality  called  honesty,  had  resolved,  perhaps 
a  little  too  generally,  that  there  was  no  such  thing.  He 
therefore  imputed  the  resolution  with  which  Mr.  Heart- 
free  had  so  positively  refused  to  concern  himself  in  mur- 
der, either  to  a  fear  of  bloodying  his  hands  or  the  appre- 
hension of  a  ghost,  or  lest  he  should  make  an  additional 
example  in  that  excellent  book  called  God's  Revenge 
against  Murder ;  and  doubted  not  but  he  would  (at  least 
in  his  present  necessity)  agree  without  scruple  to  a  simple 
robbery,  especially  where  any  considerable  booty  should 
be  proposed  and  the  safety  of  the  attack  plausibly  made 
to  appear,  which  if  he  could  prevail  on  him  to  undertake, 
he  would  immediately  afterwards  get  him  impeached, 
convicted,  and  hanged.  He  no  sooner  therefore  had  dis- 
charged his  duties  to  Hymen,  and  heard  that  Heartfree 
had  procured  himself  the  liberties  of  the  Fleet,  than  he 
resolved  to  visit  him,  and  to  propose  a  robbery  with  all 
the  allurements  of  profit,  ease  and  safety. 

This  proposal  was  no  sooner  made  than  it  was  answered 
by  Heartfree  in  the  following  manner  : 

"I  might  have  hoped  the  answer  which  I  gave  to  your 
former  advice  would  have  prevented  me  from  the  danger 
of  receiving  a  second  affront  of  this  kind.  An  affront  I 
call  it,  and  surely,  if  it  be  so  to  call  a  man  a  villain,  it  can 
be  no  less  to  show  him  you  suppose  him  one.  Indeed,  it 
may  be  wondered  how  any  man  can  arrive  at  the  bold- 
ness, I  may  say  impudence,  of  first  making  such  an 
overture  to  another ;  surely  it  is  seldom  done,  unless  to 


128  JONATHAN  WILD. 

those  who  have  previously  betrayed  some  symptoms  of 
their  owu  baseness.  If  I  have  therefore  shown  you  any 
such,  these  insults  are  more  pardonable ;  but  I  assure 
you,  if  such  appear,  they  discharg-e  all  their  mahg-nance 
outwardly,  and  reflect  not  even  a  shadow  within ;  for  to 
me  baseness  seems  inconsistent  with  this  rule,  op  doing 

NO   OTHER  PERSON   AN    INJURY  FROM   ANY   MOTIVE  OR  ON 

ANY  CONSIDERATION  WHATEVER.  This,  sir,  Is  the  rule  by 
which  I  am  determined  to  walk,  nor  can  that  man  justify 
disbelieving-  me  who  wall  not  own  he  walks  not  by  it  him- 
self. But,  whether  it  be  allowed  to  me  or  no,  or  whether 
I  feel  the  g"ood  effects  of  its  being  practised  by  others,  I 
am  resolved  to  maintain  it ;  for  surely  no  man  can  reap  a 
benefit  from  my  pursuing-  it  equal  to  the  comfort  I  myself 
enjoy :  for  what  a  ravishing-  thought,  how  replete  with 
ecstasy,  must  the  consideration  be,  that  Almighty  Good- 
ness is  by  its  own  nature  engaged  to  reward  me  !  How 
indifferent  must  such  a  persuasion  make  a  man  to  all  the 
occurrences  of  this  life  !  What  trifles  must  he  represent 
to  himself  both  the  enjoyments  and  the  afflictions  of  this' 
world  !  How  easily  must  he  acquiesce  under  missmg-  the 
former,  and  how  patiently  will  he  submit  to  the  latter, 
who  is  convinced  that  his  failing  of  a  transitory  imperfect 
rew^ard  here  is  a  most  certain  arg-ument  of  his  obtaining- 
one  permanent  and  complete  hereafter  !  Dost  thou  think 
then,  thou  little,  paltry,  mean  animal "  (with  such  lan- 
g-uage  did  he  treat  our  truly  great  man),  "that  I  will 
foreg-o  such  comfortable  expectations  for  any  pitiful 
reward  which  thou  canst  suggest  or  promise  to  me ;  for 
that  sordid  lucre  for  which  all  pains  and  labor  are  under- 
taken by  the  industrious,  and  all  barbarities  and  iniquities 
committed  by  the  vile ;  for  a  worthless  acquisition,  which 
such  as  thou  art  can  possess,  can  g"ive,  or  can  takeaway?" 
The  former  part  of  this  speech  occasioned  much  yawning" 
in  our  hero,  but  the  latter  roused  his  anger ;  and  he  was 
collecting-  his  rag-e  to  answ^er,  w^hen  Friendly  and  the  con- 
stable, who  had  been  summoned  by  Heartfree  on  Wild's 


JONATHAN  WILD.  129 

first  appearance,  entered  the  room,  and  seized  ttie  great 
man  just  as  his  wrath  was  bursting  from  his  lips. 

The  dialog-ue  which  now  ensued  is  not  worth  relating- : 
Wild  was  soon  acquainted  with  the  reason  of  this  rough 
treatment,  and  presently  conveyed  before  a  magistrate. 

Notwithstanding  the  doubts  raised  by  Mr.  Wild's  law- 
yer on  his  examination,  he  insisting  that  the  proceeding 
was  improper,  for  that  a  writ  de  homine  replegiando 
should  issue,  and  on  the  return  of  that  a  capias  in  wither- 
nam, the  justice  inclined  to  commitment,  so  that  Wild 
was  driven  to  other  methods  for  his  defense.  He  there- 
fore acquainted  the  justice  that  there  was  a  young  man 
likewise  with  him  in  the  boat,  and  begged  that  he  might 
be  sent  for,  which  request  was  accordingly  granted,  and 
the  faithful  Achates  (Mr.  Fireblood)  was  soon  produced 
to  bear  testimony  for  his  friend,  which  he  did  with  so 
much  becoming  zeal,  and  went  through  his  examination 
with  such  coherence  (though  he  was  forced  to  collect  his 
evidence  from  the  hints  given  him  by  Wild  in  the  pres- 
ence of  the  justice  and  the  accusers),  that,  as  here  was 
direct  evidence  against  mere  presumption,  our  hero  was 
most  honorably  acquitted,  and  poor  Heartfree  was 
charged  by  the  justice,  the  audience,  and  all  others  who 
afterwards  heard  the  story,  with  the  blackest  ingratitude, 
in  attempting  to  take  away  the  life  of  a  man  to  whom  he 
had  such  eminent  obligations. 

Lest  so  vast  an  effort  of  friendship  as  this  of  Fireblood's 
should  too  violently  surprise  the  reader  in  this  degenerate 
age,  it  may  be  proper  to  inform  him  that  beside  the  ties 
of  engagement  in  the  same  employ,  another  nearer  and 
stronger  alliance  subsisted  between  our  hero  and  this 
youth,  which  latter  was  just  departed  from  the  arms  of 
the  lovely  Laetitia  when  he  received  her  husband's  mes- 
sage ;  an  instance  which  may  also  serve  to  justify  those 
strict  intercourses  of  love  and  acquaintance  which  so  com- 
monly subsist  in  modern  history  between  the  husband  and 
gallant,  displaying  the  vast  force  of  friendship  contracted 


130  JONATHAN  WILD. 

by  this  more  honorable  than  legal  alliance, which  is  thought 
to  be  at  present  one  of  the  strongest  bonds  of  amity 
between  great  men,  and  the  most  reputable  as  well  as 
easy  way  to  their  favor. 

Four  months  had  now  passed  since  Heartfree's  first 
confinement,  and  his  aifairs  had  begun  to  wear  a  more 
benign  aspect ;  but  they  were  a  good  deal  injured  by  this 
attempt  on  Wild  (so  dangerous  is  any  attack  on  a  great 
man),  several  of  his  neighbors,  and  particularly  one  or 
two  of  his  own  trade,  industriously  endeavoring,  from 
their  bitter  animosity  against  such  kind  of  iniquity,  to 
spread  and  exaggerate  his  ingratitude  as  much  as  possible; 
not  in  the  least  scrupling,  in  the  violent  ardor  of  their 
indignation,  to  add  some  small  circumstances  of  their 
own  knowledge  of  the  many  obligations  conferred  on 
Heartfree  by  Wild.  To  all  these  scandals  he  quietly  sub- 
mitted, comforting  himself  in  the  consciousness  of  his  own 
innocence,  and  confiding  in  time,  the  sure  friend  of  justice, 
to  acquit  him. 


CHAPTER  XI. 

A  scheme  so  deeply  laid,  that  it  shames  all  the  politics  of  this  our 
age ;  with  digression  and  subdigression. 

Wild  having  now,  to  the  hatred  he  bore  Heartfree  on 
account  of  those  injuries  he  had  done  him,  an  additional 
spur  from  this  injury  received  (for  so  it  appeared  to  him, 
who,  no  more  than  the  most  ignorant,  considered  how 
truly  he  deserved  it),  applied  his  utmost  industry  to 
accomplish  the  ruin  of  one  whose  very  name  sounded 
odious  in  his  ears ;  when  luckily  a  scheme  arose  in  his 
imagination  which  not  only  promised  to  effect  it  securely, 
but  (which  pleased  him  most)  by  means  of  the  mischief 
he  had  already  done  him ;  and  which  would  at  once  load 
him  with  the  imputation  of  having  committed  what  he 


JONATHAN  WILD.  131 

himself  had  done  to  him,  and  would  bring  on  him  the 
severest  punishment  for  a  fact  of  which  he  was  not  only 
innocent,  but  had  already  so  greatly  suffered  by.  And  this 
was  no  other  than  to  charge  him  with  having  conveyed 
away  his  wife,  with  his  most  valuable  effects,  in  order  to 
defraud  his  creditors. 

He  no  sooner  started  this  thought  than  he  immediately 
resolved  on  putting  it  in  execution.  What  remained  to 
consider  was  only  the  quomodo,  and  the  person  or  tool 
to  be  employed  ;  for  the  stage  of  the  world  differs  from 
that  in  Drury-lane  principally  in  this — that  whereas,  on 
the  latter,  the  hero  or  chief  figure  is  almost  continually 
before  your  eyes,  whilst  the  under-actors  are  not  seen 
above  once  in  an  evening  ;  now,  on  the  former,  the  hero 
or  great  man  is  always  behind  the  curtain,  and  seldom  or 
never  appears  or  doth  anything  in  his  own  person.  He 
doth  indeed,  in  this  grand  drama,  rather  perform  the 
part  of  the  prompter,  and  doth  instruct  the  well-dressed 
figures,  who  are  strutting  in  public  on  the  stage,  what  to 
say  and  do.  To  say  the  truth,  a  puppet-show  will  illus- 
trate our  meaning  better,  where  it  is  the  master  of  the 
show  (the  great  man)  who  dances  and  moves  everything, 
whether  it  be  the  king  of  Muscovy  or  whatever  other 
potentate  alias  puppet  which  we  behold  on  the  stage ;  but 
he  himself  keeps  wisely  out  of  sight,  for,  should  he  once 
appear,  the  whole  motion  would  be  at  an  end.  Not  that 
anyone  is  ignorant  of  his  being  there,  or  supposes  that 
the  puppets  are  not  mere  sticks  of  wood,  and  he  himself 
the  sole  mover  ;  but  as  this  (though  every  one  knows  it) 
doth  not  appear  visibly,  i.  e.  to  their  eyes,  no  one  is 
ashamed  of  consenting  to  be  imposed  upon ;  of  helping 
on  the  drama,  by  calling  the  several  sticks  or  puppets  by 
the  names  which  the  master  hath  allotted  to  them,  and 
by  assigning  to  each  the  character  which  the  great  man 
is  pleased  they  shall  move  in,  or  rather  in  which  he  him- 
self is  pleased  to  move  them. 

It  would  be  to  suppose  thee,  gentle  reader,  one  of  very 


13-2  JONATHAN  WILD. 

little  knowledg-e  in  this  world,  to  imag-inc  tliou  hast  never 
seen  some  of  these  puppet-shows  which  are  so  frequently 
acted  on  the  g-reat  stage  ;  but  though  thou  shouldst  have 
resided  all  thy  days  in  those  remote  parts  of  this  island 
which  great  men  seldom  visit,  yet  if  thou  hast  any  pene- 
tration, thou  must  have  had  some  occasions  to  admire 
both  the  solemnity  of  countenance  in  the  actor  and  the 
gravitj''  in  the  spectator,  while  some  of  those  farces  are 
carried  on  which  are  acted  almost  daily  in  every  village 
in  the  kingdom.  He  must  have  a  very  despicable  opinion 
of  mankind  indeed  who  can  conceive  them  to  be  imposed 
on  as  often  as  they  appear  to  be  so.  The  truth  is,  they 
are  in  the  same  situation  with  the  readers  of  romances  ; 
who,  though  they  know  the  whole  to  be  one  entire  fiction, 
nevertheless  agree  to  be  deceived;  and,  as  these  find 
amusement,  so  do  the  others  find  ease  and  convenience  in 
this  concurrence.  But,  this  bemg  a  subdigression,  I 
return  to  my  digression. 

A  GREAT  MAX  ought  to  do  his  business  by  others ;  to 
employ  hands,  as  we  have  before  said,  to  his  purposes, 
and  keep  himself  as  much  behind  the  curtain  as  possible ; 
and  though  it  must  be  acknowledged  that  two  very  great 
men,  whose  names  will  be  both  recorded  in  history,  did 
in  these  latter  times  come  forth  themselves  on  the  stage, 
and  did  hack  and  hew  and  lay  each  other  most  cruelly 
open  to  the  diversion  of  the  spectators,  yet  this  must  be 
mentioned  rather  as  an  example  of  avoidance  than 
imitation,  and  is  to  be  ascribed  to  the  number  of  those  in- 
stances which  serve  to  evince  the  truth  of  these  maxims : 
Nemo  mortalium  omnibus  horis  sapit.  Ira  furor 
brevis  est,  &c. 


When  the  officers  came  for  this  poor  wretch  they  found  him  meanly 

diverting  himself  with  his  little  children. 

From  a  drawing  by  T.  Stothard. 


132  JONATHAN  WILD. 

little  l'"-^-^'  -     ■  "       ■    ■''   '    - "'       'nst  never 

stNTi  ^  lucntly 

a'  st  have 

r<  ■  ^and 

^'  'tie- 
t' 
1 

ily  in  every   village 

.  - ciy  despicable  opinion 

iO  can  conceive  them  to  be  imposed 

•  'ar  to  be  so.     The  truth  is,  they 

with  the  rea<lers  of  romances; 

know  the  whole  to  be  one  entire  fiction, 

ai  '•  in 

this  concurrence.    V>  being  a  subilig^rcssion,   I 

return  to  uiy  '  n. 

A  GREAT  Ji  -lit  to  do  his  business  by  others ;  to 

employ  hands,  as  we  have  before  said,  to  his  purposes, 
and  keep  himself  as  much  behind  the  r     -  ible ; 

and  though  it  must  be  acknowledg-od  eat 

Tt  se  names  will  be  both   recorxted   m   history',  did 

''■■■•  ^'^-y-- r. f....i.  .1  i- ,s  on  the  stage, 

,.r  most  cruelly 

uust  be 

♦ban 

S'  IS : 

i>  ..... —  .    .    juror 

tr 


'rnd   f)fiuol    totii  dol3TN  looq  z'ltH  ifA  gmcD  «i3;>ffto  aril  norlW 
naiblirfD  slJJil  eirf  rijiw  llsamiri  gniliavib 


JONATHAN  WILD.  133 

CHAPTER    XII. 

New  instances  of  Friendly' s  folly,  <&c. 

To  return  to  my  history,  which,  having  rested  itself  a 
little,  is  now  ready  to  proceed  on  its  journey :  Fireblood 
was  the  person  chosed  by  Wild  for  this  service.  He  had, 
on  a  late  occasion,  experienced  the  [talents  of  this  youth 
for  a  good  round  perjury.  He  immediately,  therefore, 
found  him  out,  and  proposed  it  to  him ;  when,  receiving- 
his  instant  assent,  they  consulted  together,  and  soon 
framed  an  evidence,  which,  being  communicated  to  one  of 
the  most  bitter  and  severe  creditors  of  Heartfree,  by  him 
laid  before  a  magistrate,  and  attested  by  the  oath  of 
Fireblood,  the  justice  granted  his  warrant ;  and  Heart- 
free  was  according  apprehended  and  brought  before 
him. 

When  the  officers  came  for  this  poor  wretch  they  found 
him  meanly  diverting  himself  with  his  little  children,  the 
younger  of  whom  sat  on  his  knees,  and  the  elder  was 
playing  at  a  little  distance  from  him  with  Friendly.  One 
of  the  officers,  who  was  a  very  good  sort  of  a  man,  but 
one  very  laudably  severe  in  his  office,  after  acquainting 
Heartfree  with  his  errand,  bade  him  come  along  and  be 
d — d,  and  leave  those  little  bastards,  for  so,  he  said,  he 
supposed  they  were,  for  a  legacy  to  the  parish.  Heart- 
free  was  much  surprised  at  hearing  there  was  a  warrant 
for  felony  against  him ;  but  he  showed  less  concern  than 
Friendly  did  in  his  countenance.  The  elder  daughter, 
when  she  saw  the  officer  lay  hold  on  her  father,  immedi- 
ately quitted  her  play,  and,  running  to  him  and  bursting 
Into  tears,  cried  out,  "You  shall  not  hurt  poor  papa." 
One  of  the  other  ruffians  offered  to  take  the  little  one 
rudely  from  his  knees ;  but  Heartfree  started  up,  and 
catching  the  fellow  by  the  collar,  dashed  his  head  so 
violently  against  the  wall,  that,  had  he  had  any  brains, 
he  might  possibly  have  lost  them  by  the  blow. 


134  JONATHAN  WILD. 

The  officer,  like  most  of  those  heroic  spirits  who  insult 
men  in  adversity,  had  some  prudence  mixed  with  his  zeal 
for  justice.  Seeing,  therefore,  this  roug-h  treatment  of 
his  companion,  he  began  to. pursue  more  gentle  methods, 
and  very  civilly  desired  Mr.  Heartfree  to  go  with  him, 
seeing  he  was  an  officer,  and  obliged  to  execute  his  war- 
rant; that  he  was  sorry  for  his  misfortune,  and  hoped  he 
would  be  acquitted.  The  other  answered,  **  He  should 
patiently  submit  to  the  laws  of  his  country',  and  would 
attend  him  whither  he  was  ordered  to  conduct  him;" 
then,  taking  leave  of  his  children  with  a  tender  kiss,  he 
recommended  them  to  the  care  of  Friendly,  who  promised 
to  see  them  safe  home,  and  then  to  attend  him  at  the  jus- 
tice's, whose  name  and  abode  he  had  learned  of  the  con- 
stable. 

Friendly  arrived  at  the  magistrate's  house  just  as  that 
gentleman  had  signed  the  mittimus  against  his  friend ; 
for  the  evidence  of  Fireblood  was  so  clear  and  strong,  and 
the  justice  was  so  incensed  against  Heartfree,  and  so  con- 
vinced of  his  guilt,  that  he  w^ould  hardl}^  hear  him  speak 
in  his  own  defense,  which  the  reader  perhaps,  when  he 
hears  the  evidence  against  him,  will  be  less  inclined  to 
censure ;  for  this  witness  deposed,  "  That  he  had  been,  by 
Heartfree  himself,  employed  to  carry  the  orders  of  em. 
bezzling  to  Wild,  in  order  to  be  delivered  to  his  wife ;  that 
he  had  been  afterwards  present  with  "Wild  and  her  at  the 
inn  when  they  took  coach  for  Harwich,  where  she  showed 
him  the  casket  of  jewels,  and  desired  him  to  tell  her  hus- 
band that  she  had  fully  executed  his  command  ;  and  this 
he  swore  to  have  been  done  after  Heartfree  had  notice  of 
the  commission,  and,  in  order  to  bring  it  within  that  time, 
Fireblood,  as  well  as  Wild,  sw^ore  that  Mrs.  Heartfree  lay 
several  days  concealed  at  Wild's  house  before  her  depar- 
ture for  Holland." 

When  Friendly  found  the  justice  obdurate,  and  that  all 
he  could  say  had  no  effect,  nor  was  it  in  any  way  possi- 
ble for  Heartfree  to  escape  being  committed  to  Nev/^ate, 


JONATHAN  WILD.  135 

he  resolved  to  accompany  him  thither ;  where,  when  they 
arrived,  the  turnkey  would  have  confined  Heartfree  (he 
having"  no  money)  among*  the  common  felons;  but  Friendly 
would  not  permit  it,  and  advanced  every  shilling  he  had  in 
his  pocket,  to  procure  a  room  in  the  press-yard  for  his 
friend,  which  mdeed,  through  the  humanity  of  the  keeper, 
he  did  at  a  cheap  rate. 

They  spent  that  day  together,  and  in  the  evening-  the 
prisoner  dismissed  his  friend,  desiring'  him,  after  many 
thanks  for  his  fidelity,  to  he  comforted  on  his  account. 
**I  know  not,"  says  he,  "  how  far  the  malice  of  my  enemy 
will  prevail ;  but  whatever  my  sufferings  are,  I  am  con- 
vinced my  innocence  will  somewhere  be  rewarded.  If, 
therefore,  any  fatal  accident  should  happen  to  me  (for  he 
who  is  in  the  hands  of  perjury  may  apprehend  the  worst), 
my  dear  Friendly,  be  a  father  to  my  poor  children  ;  "  at 
which  words  the  tears  gushed  from  his  eyes.  The  other 
begged  him  not  to  admit  any  such  apprehensions,  for  that 
he  would  employ  his  utmost  diligence  in  his  service,  and 
doubted  not  but  to  subvert  any  villainous  design  laid  for 
his  destruction,  and  to  make  his  innocence  appear  to  the 
world  as  white  as  it  was  in  his  own  opinion. 

We  cannot  help  mentioning  a  circumstance  here,  though 
we  doubt  it  will  appear  very  unnatural  and  incredible  to 
our  reader  ;  which  is,  that,  notwithstanding-  the  former 
character  and  behavior  of  Heartfree,  this  story  of  his 
embezzling  was  so  far  from  surprising  his  neighbors,  that 
many  of  them  declared  they  expected  no  better  from  him. 
Some  were  assured  he  could  pay  forty  shillings  in  the 
pound  if  he  would.  Others  had  overheard  hints  formerly 
pass  between  him  and  Mrs.  Heartfree  which  had  given 
them  suspicions.  And  what  is  most  astonishing  of  all  is, 
that  many  of  those  who  had  before  censured  him  for  an 
extravagant  heedless  fool  now  no  less  confidently  abused 
him  for  a  cunning,  tricking,  avaricious  knave. 


136  JONATHAN  WILD. 


CHAPTER  XIIL 

Something  concerning  Firehlood,  which  will  surprise  ;  and  somewhat 
touching  one  of  the  Miss  Snaps,  which  will  greatly  concern  the 
reader. 

However,  notwithstanding  all  these  censures  abroad, 
and  in  despite  of  all  his  misfortunes  at  home,  Heartfree 
in  Newgate  enjoyed  a  quiet,  undisturbed  repose ;  while 
our  hero,  nobly  disdaining  rest,  lay  sleepless  all  night, 
partly  from  the  apprehensions  of  Mrs.  Heartfree 's  return 
before  he  had  executed  his  scheme,  and  partly  from  a 
suspicion  lest  Fireblood  should  betray  him  ;  of  whose  in- 
fidelity he  had,  nevertheless,  no  other  cause  to  maintain 
any  fear,  but  from  his  knowing  him  to  be  an  accomplished 
rascal  as  the  vulgar  term  it,  a  complete  great  man  in 
our  language.  And  indeed,  to  confess  the  truth,  these 
doubts  were  not  without  some  foundation,  for  the  very 
same  thought  unluckily  entered  the  head  of  that  noble 
youth,  who  considered  whether  he  might  not  possibly  sell 
himself  for  some  advantage  to  the  other  side,  as  he  had 
yet  no  promise  from  Wild ;  but  this  was,  by  the  sagacity 
of  the  latter,  prevented  in  the  morning  with  a  profusion 
of  promises,  which  showed  him  to  be  of  the  most  generous 
temper  in  the  world,  with  which  Fireblood  was  extremely 
well  satisfied,  and  made  use  of  so  many  protestations  of 
his  faithfulness  that  he  convinced  Wild  of  the  injustice  of 
his  suspicions. 

At  this  time  an  accident  happened,  which,  though  it  did 
not  immediately  affect  our  hero,  we  cannot  avoid  relating, 
as  it  occasioned  great  confusion  in  his  family,  as  well  as 
in  the  family  of  Snap.  It  is  indeed  a  calamity  highly  to 
be  lamented,  when  it  stains  untainted  blood,  and  happens 
to  an  honorable  house — an  injury  never  to  be  repaired — a 
blot  never  to  be  wiped  out — a  sore  never  to  be  healed.  To 
detain  my  reader  no  longer.  Miss  Theodosia  Snap  was 


JONATHAN  WILD.  137 

now  safely  delivered  of  a  male  infant,  the  product  of  an 
amour  which  that  beautiful  (O  that  I  could  say  virtuous!) 
creature  had  with  the  count. 

Mr.  Wild  and  his  lady  were  at  breakfast  when  Mr. 
Snap,  with  all  the  agonies  of  despair  both  in  his  voice  and 
countenance,  brought  them  this  melancholy  news.  Our 
hero,  who  had  (as  we  have  said)  wonderful  good-nature 
when  his  greatness  or  interest  was  not  concerned,  instead 
reviling  his  sister-in-law,  asked  with  a  smile,  "  Who  was 
the  father?"  But  the  chaste  Laetitia,  we  repeat  the 
chaste,  for  well  did  she  now  deserve  that  epithet,  received 
it  in  another  manner.  She  fell  into  the  utmost  fury  at  the 
relation,  reviled  her  sister  in  the  bitterest  terms,  and 
vowed  she  would  never  see  nor  speak  to  her  more  ;  then 
burst  into  tears,  and  lamented  over  her  father  that  such 
dishonor  should  ever  happen  to  him  and  herself.  At 
length  she  fell  severely  on  her  husband  for  the  light  treat- 
ment which  he  gave  this  fatal  accident.  She  told  him  he 
was  unworthy  of  the  honor  he  enjoyed  of  marrying  into  a 
chaste  family.  That  she  looked  on  it  as  an  affront  to  her 
virtue.  That  if  he  had  married  one  of  the  naughty  hus- 
sies of  the  town  he  could  have  behaved  to  her  in  no  other 
manner.  She  concluded  with  desiring  her  father  to  make 
an  example  of  the  slut,  and  to  turn  her  out  of  doors ;  for 
that  she  would  not  otherwise  enter  his  house,  being  re- 
solved never  to  set  her  foot  within  the  same  threshold 
with  the  trollop,  whom  she  detested  so  much  the  more 
because  (which  was  perhaps  true)  she  was  her  own  sister. 

So  violent,  and  indeed  so  outrageous,  was  this  chaste 
lady's  love  of  virtue,  that  she  could  not  forgive  a  single 
slip  (indeed  the  only  one  Theodosia  had  ever  made)  in  her 
own  sister,  in  a  sister  who  loved  her,  and  to  whom  she 
owed  a  thousand  obligations. 

Perhaps  the  severity  of  Mr.  Snap,  who  greatly  felt  the 
injury  done  to  the  honor  of  his  family,  would  have  re- 
lented, had  not  the  parish  officers  been  extremely  pressing 
on  this  occasion,  and  for  want  of  security,  conveyed  the 


138  JONATHAN  WILD. 

unhappy  j'oung-  lady  to  a  place,  the  name  of  which,  for 
the  honor  of  the  Snaps,  to  whom  our  hero  was  so  nearly 
allied,  we  bury  in  eternal  oblivion ;  where  she  suffered  so 
much  correction  for  her  crime,  that  the  g-ood-natured 
reader  of  the  male  kind  may  be  inclined  to  compassionate 
her,  at  least  to  imagine  she  was  sufficiently  punished  for 
a  fault  which,  with  submission  to  the  chaste  Laetitia  and 
all  other  strictly  virtuous  ladies,  it  should  be  either  less 
criminal  in  a  woman  to  commit,  or  more  so  in  a  man  to 
solicit  her  to  it. 

But  to  return  to  our  hero,  who  was  a  living  and  strong- 
instance  that  human  greatness  and  happiness  are  not  al- 
ways inseparable.  He  was  under  a  continual  alarm  of 
frights,  and  fears,  and  jealousies.  He  thought  every 
man  he  beheld  wore  a  knife  for  his  throat,  and  a  pair  of 
scissors  for  his  purse.  As  for  his  owm  gang  particularly, 
he  was  thoroughly  convinced  there  was  not  a  single  man 
amongst  them  who  would  not,  for  the  value  of  five  shil- 
lings, bring  him  to  the  gallows.  These  apprehensions  so 
constantly  broke  his  rest,  and  kept  him  so  assiduously  on 
his  guard  to  frustrate  and  circumvent  any  designs  which 
might  be  formed  against  him,  that  his  condition,  to  any 
other  than  the  glorious  eye  of  ambition,  might  seem 
rather  deplorable  than  the  object  of  envy  or  desire. 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

In  which  our  hero  makes  a  speech  well  worthy  to  be  celebrated  ;  and 
the  behavior  of  one  of  the  gang,  perhaps  more  unnatural  than 
any  other  part  of  this  history. 

There  was  in  the  gang  a  man  named  Blueskin,  one  of 
those  merchants  who  trade  in  dead  oxen,  sheep,  &c.,  in 
short,  what  the  vulgar  call  a  butcher.  This  gentleman 
had  two  qualities  of  a  great  man,  viz.:  undaunted  courage, 
and  an  absolute  contempt  of  those  ridiculous  distinctions 


JONATHAN  WILD.  139 

of  meum  and  tuum,  which  would  cause  endless  disputes, 
did  not  the  law  happily  decide  them  by  converting-  both 
into  suum.  The  common  form  of  exchanging  property 
by  trade  seemed  to  him  too  tedious  ;  he  therefore  resolved 
to  quit  the  mercantile  profession,  and,  falling  acquainted 
with  some  of  Mr.  Wild's  people,  he  provided  himself 
with  arms,  and  enlisted  of  the  gang ;  in  which  he  behaved 
for  some  time  with  great  decency  and  order,  and  submitted 
to  accept  such  share  of  the  booty  with  the  rest  as  our 
hero  allotted  him. 

But  this  subserviency  agreed  ill  with  his  temper;  for  we 
should  have  before  remembered  a  third  heroic  quality, 
namely,  ambition,  which  was  no  inconsiderable  part  of 
his  composition.  One  day,  therefore,  having-  robbed  a 
g-entleman  at  "Windsor  of  a  gold  watch,  which,  on  its 
being-  advertised  in  the  newspapers,  with  a  considerable 
reward,  was  demanded  of  him  by  Wild,  he  peremptorily 
refused  to  deliver  it. 

''How,  Mr.  Blueskin?"  says  Wild;  "you  will  not  de- 
liver the  watch?"— ''No,  Mr.  Wild,"  answered  he;  "I 
have  taken  it,  and  will  keep  it;  or,  if  I  dispose  of  it,  I  will 
dispose  of  it  myself,  and  keep  the  money  for  which  I  sell 
it." — "Sure,"  replied  Wild,  "you  have  not  the  assurance 
to  pretend  you  have  any  property  or  right  in  this  watch  ?" 
— "I  am  certain,"  returned  Blueskin,  "whether  I  have 
any  right  in  it  or  no,  3^ou  can  prove  none."  "I  will  under- 
take," cries  the  other,  "to  show  I  have  an  absolute  right 
to  it,  and  that  by  the  laws  of  our  gang-,  of  which  I  am 
providentially  at  the  head." — "I  know  not  who  put  you 
at  the  head  of  it,"  cries  Blueskin;  "but  those  who  did  cer- 
tainly did  it  for  their  own  good,  that  you  might  conduct 
them  the  better  in  their  robberies,  inform  them  of  the 
richest  booties,  prevent  surprises,  pack  juries,  bribe  evi- 
dence, and  so  contribute  to  their  benefit  and  safety;  and 
not  to  convert  all  their  labor  and  hazard  to  your  own 
benefit  and  advantage." — "You  are  greatly  mistaken, 
sir,"  answered  Wild;  "you  are  talking  of  a  legal  society, 


140  JONATHAN  WILD. 

where  the  chief  magistrate  is  always  chosen  for  the  pub- 
lic good,  which,  as  we  see  in  all  the  legal  societies  of  the 
world,  he  constantly  consults,  daily  contributing,  by  his 
superior  skill,  to  their  prosperity,  and  not  sacrificing 
their  good  to  his  own  wealth,  or  pleasure,  or  humor:  but 
in  an  illegal  society  or  gang,  as  this  of  ours,  it  is  other- 
^vise;  for  who  would  be  at  the  head  of  a  gang,  unless  for 
his  own  interest?  And  without  a  head,  you  know,  you 
cannot  subsist.  Nothing  but  a  head,  and  obedience  to 
that  head,  can  preserve  a  gang  a  moment  from  destruc- 
tion. It  is  absolutely  better  for  you  to  content  yourselves 
vnth.  a  moderate  reward,  and  enjoy  that  in  safety  at  the 
disposal  of  your  chief,  than  to  engross  the  whole  with  the 
hazard  to  which  you  will  be  liable  without  his  protection. 
And  surely  there  is  none  in  the  whole  gang  who  has  less 
reason  to  complain  than  you;  you  have  tasted  of  my 
favors:  witness  that  piece  of  ribbon  you  wear  in  your  hat, 
with  which  I  dubbed  j^ou  captain.  Therefore  pray,  cap- 
tain, deliver  the  watch." — "D — n  your  cajoling,"  says 
Blueskin;  "do  you  think  I  value  myself  on  this  bit  of  rib- 
bon, which  I  could  have  bought  myself  for  sixpence,  and 
have  worn  without  your  leave  ?  Do  you  imagine  I  think 
myself  a  captain  because  you,  whom  I  know  not  em- 
powered to  make  one,  call  me  so  ?  The  name  of  captain 
is  but  a  shadow:  the  men  and  the  salary  are  the  sub- 
stance; and  I  am  not  to  be  bubbled  with  a  shadow.  I 
will  be  called  captain  no  longer,  and  he  who  flatters  me 
by  that  name  I  shall  think  affronts  me,  and  I  will  knock 
hira  down,  I  assure  you."  "Did  ever  man  talk  so  un- 
reasonably?" cries  Wild.  "Are  you  not  respected  as  a 
captain  by  the  whole  gang  since  my  dubbing  you  so  ? 
But  it  is  the  shadow  only,  it  seems;  and  you  will  knock  a 
man  down  for  affronting  you  who  calls  you  captain ! 
Might  not  a  man  as  reasonably  tell  a  Minister  of  State, 
Sir,  you  have  given  me  the  shadow  only  ?  The  ribbon  or 
the  bauble  that  you  gave  me  Implies  that  I  have  either  sig- 
nalized myself,  by  some  great  action,  for  the  benefit  and 


JONATHAN  WILD.  141 

glory  of  my  country,  or  at  least  that  I  am  descended 
from  those  who  have  done  so.  I  know  myself  to  be  a 
scoundrel,  and  so  have  been  those  few  ancestors  I  can  re- 
member, or  have  ever  heard  of.  Therefore,  I  am  resolved  to 
knock  the  first  man  down  who  calls  me  sir  or  right  honor- 
able. But  all  great  and  wise  men  think  themselves  suf- 
ficiently repaid  by  what  procures  them  honor  and  prece- 
dence in  the  gang,  without  inquiring  into  substance;  nay, 
if  a  title  or  a  feather  be  equal  to  this  purpose,  they  are 
substance,  and  not  mere  shadows.  But  I  have  not  time 
to  argue  with  you  at  present,  so  give  me  the  watch  with- 
out any  more  deliberation." — *'I  am  no  more  a  friend  to 
deliberation  than  yourself,"  answered  Blueskin,  "and  so 
I  tell  you,  once  for  all,  by  G —  I  never  will  give  you  the 
watch,  no,  nor  will  I  ever  hereafter  surrender  any  part  of 
my  booty.  I  won  it,  and  I  will  wear  it.  Take  your  pis- 
tols yourself,  and  go  out  on  the  highway,  and  don't  lazily 
think  to  fatten  yourself  with  the  dangers  and  pains  of 
other  people."  At  which  words  he  departed  in  a  fierce 
mood,  and  repaired  to  the  tavern  used  by  the  gang  where 
he  had  appointed  to  meet  some  of  his  acquaintance,  whom 
he  informed  of  what  had  passed  between  him  and  Wild, 
and  advised  them  all  to  follow  his  example;  which  they 
all  readily  agreed  to,  and  Mr.  Wild's  d — tion  was  the 
universal  toast;  in  drinking  bumpers  to  which  they  had 
finished  a  large  bowl  of  punch,  when  a  constable,  with  a 
numerous  attendance,  and  Wild  at  their  head,  entered  the 
room  and  seized  on  Blueskin,  whom  his  companions,  when 
they  saw  our  hero,  did  not  dare  attempt  to  rescue.  The 
watch  was  found  upon  him,  which,  together  with  Wild's 
information,  was  more  than  sufficient  to  commit  him  to 
Newgate. 

In  the  evening  Wild  and  the  rest  of  those  who  had  been 
drinking  with  Blueskin  met  at  the  tavern,  where  nothing 
was  to  be  seen  but  the  profoundest  submission  to  their 
leader.  They  vilified  and  a  bused  Blueskin  as  much  as 
they  had  before  abused  our  hero,  and  now  repeated  the 


142  JONATHAN  WILD. 

same  toast,  only  changing'  the  name  of  Wild  into  Blue, 
skin;  all  agreeing  with  Wild  that  the  watch  found  in  his 
pocket,  and  which  must  be  a  fatal  e\'idence  against  him, 
was  a  just  judgment  on  his  disobedience  and  revolt. 

Thus  did  this  great  man  by  a  resolute  and  timely  ex- 
ample (for  he  went  directly  to  the  justice  when  Blueskin 
left  him)  quell  one  of  the  most  dangerous  conspiracies 
which  could  possibly  arise  in  a  gang,  and  which,  had  it 
been  permitted  one  daj^'s  growth,  would  inevitably  have 
ended  in  his  destruction;  so  much  doth  it  behove  all  great 
men  to  be  eternally  on  their  guard,  and  expeditious  in 
the  execution  of  their  purposes;  while  none  but  the  weak 
and  honest  can  indulge  themselves  in  remissness  or 
repose. 

The  Achates,  Fireblood,  had  been  present  at  both  these 
meetings;  but,  though  he  had  a  little  too  hastily  concur- 
red in  cursing  his  friend,  and  in  vowing  his  perdition,  yet 
now  he  saw  all  that  scheme  dissolved  he  returned  to  his 
integrity,  of  which  he  gave  an  incontestable  proof,  by  in- 
forming Wild  of  the  measures  which  had  been  concerted 
against  him,  in  which  he  said  he  had  pretended  to  acqui- 
esce in  order  the  better  to  betray  them;  but  this,  as  he 
afterwards  confessed  on  his  death-bed  at  Tyburn,  was 
only  a  copy  of  his  countenance;  for  that  he  was,  at  that 
time,  as  sincere  and  hearty  in  his  opposition  to  Wild  as 
any  of  his  companions. 

Our  hero  received  Fireblood 's  information  with  a  very 
placid  countenance.  He  said,  as  the  gang  had  seen  their 
errors,  and  repented,  nothing  was  more  noble  than  for- 
giveness. But,  though  he  was  pleased  modestly  to 
ascribe  this  to  his  lenity,  it  really  arose  from  much  more 
noble  and  political  principles.  He  considered  that  it 
would  be  dangerous  to  attempt  the  punishment  of  so 
man}';  besides,  he  flattered  himself  that  fear  would  keep 
them  in  order:  and  indeed  Fireblood  had  told  him  nothing 
more  than  he  knew  before,  viz.  that  thay  were  all  com- 
plete prigs,  whom  he  was  to  govern  by  their  fears,  and 


JONATHAN   WILD.  143 

in  whom  he  was  to  place  no  more  confidence  than  was 
necessary,  and  to  watch  them  with  tlie  utmost  caution 
and  circumspection:  for  a  rogue,  he  wisely  said,  like  gun- 
powder, must  he  used  with  caution;  since  both  are  alto- 
gether as  liable  to  blow  up  the  party  himself  who  uses 
them  as  to  execute  his  mischievous  purpose  against  some 
other  person  or  animal. 

We  will  now  repair  to  Newgate,  it  being  the  place 
where  most  of  the  great  men  of  this  history  are  hasten- 
ing as  fast  as  possible;  and,  to  confess  the  truth,  it  is  a 
castle  very  far  from  being  an  improper  or  misbecoming 
habitation  for  any  great  man  whatever.  And  as  this 
scene  will  continue  during  the  residue  of  our  history,  we 
shall  open  it  with  a  new  book,  and  shall  therefore  take 
this  opportunity  of  closing  our  third. 


144  JONATHAN  WILD. 


BOOK    IV. 


CHAPTER  I. 

A  sentiment  of  the  ordinary's,  worthy  to  he  written  in  letters  of  gold; 
a  very  extraordinary  instance  of  folly  in  Friendly;  and  a  dread- 
ful accident  which  befell  our  hero. 

Heartfree  had  not  been  long-  in  Newgate  before  his 
frequent  conversation  with  his  children,  and  other  instan- 
ces of  a  good  heart,  w^hich  betrayed  themselves  in  his  ac- 
tions and  conversation,  created  an  opinion  in  all  about 
him  that  he  was  one  of  the  siUiest  fellows  in  the  universe. 
The  ordinary  himself,  a  very  sagacious  as  well  as  very 
worthy  person,  declared  that  he  was  a  cursed  rogue,  but 
no  conjurer. 

"What  indeed  might  induce  the  former,  i.e.  the  roguish 
part  of  this  opinion  in  the  ordinary,  was  a  wicked  senti- 
ment which  Heartfree  one  day  disclosed  in  conversation, 
and  which  we,  who  are  truly  orthodox,  will  not  pretend 
to  justify,  that  he  believed  a  sincere  Turk  would  be  saved. 
To  this  the  good  man,  with  becoming  zeal  and  indigna- 
tion, answered,  "  I  know  not  what  may  become  of  a  sin- 
cere Turk;  but,  if  this  be  your  persuasion,  I  pronounce  it 
impossible  you  should  be  saved.  No,  sir;  so  far  from  a 
sincere  Turk's  being  within  the  pale  of  salvation,  neither 
will  any  sincere  Presb^i^erian,  Anabaptist,  nor  Quaker 
whatever,  be  saved." 

But  neither  did  the  one  nor  the  other  part  of  this  char- 
acter prevail  on  Friendly  to  abandon  his  old  master.  He 
spent  his  whole  time  with  him,  except  only  those  hours 
when  he  was  absent  for  his  sake,  in  procuring  evidence 
for  him  against  his  trial,  which  was  now  shortly  to  come 
on.    Indeed  this  young  man  was  the  only  comfort,  besides 


JONATHAN  WILD,  145 

a  clear  conscience  and  the  hopes  beyond  the  grave,  which 
this  poor  wretch  had;  for  tlie  sight  of  his  children  was 
like  one  of  those  alluring  pleasures  which  men  in  some 
diseases  indulge  themselves  often  fatally  in,  which  at  once 
flatter  and  heighten  their  malady. 

Friendly  being  one  day  present  while  Heartfree  was, 
with  tears  in  his  eyes,  embracing  his  eldest  daughter,  and 
lamenting  the  hard  fate  to  which  he  feared  he  should  be 
obliged  to  leave  her,  spoke  to  him  thus:  "  I  have  long 
observed  with  admiration  the  magnanimity  with  which 
you  go  through  your  own  misfortunes,  and  the  steady 
countenance  with  which  you  look  on  death.  I  have 
observed  that  all  your  agonies  arise  from  the  thoughts  of 
parting  with  your  children,  and  of  leaving  them  in  a  dis- 
tressed condition;  now,  though  I  hope  all  your  fears  will 
prove  ill-grounded,  yet,  that  I  may  relieve  you  as  much 
as  possible  from  them,  be  assured  that,  as  nothing  can 
give  me  more  real  misery  than  to  observe  so  tender  and 
loving  a  concern  in  a  master,  to  whose  goodness  I  owe  so 
many  obligations,  and  whom  I  so  sincerely  love,  so 
nothing  can  afford  me  equal  pleasure  with  my  contribut- 
ing to  lessen  or  to  remove  it.  Be  convinced,  therefore,  if 
you  can  place  any  confidence  in  my  promise,  that  I  will 
employ  my  little  fortune,  which  you  know  to  be  not 
entirely  inconsiderable,  in  the  support  of  this  your  little 
family.  Should  any  misfortune,  which  I  pray  Heaven 
avert,  happen  to  you  before  you  have  better  provided  for 
these  little  ones,  I  will  be  myself  their  father,  nor  shall 
either  of  them  ever  know  distress  if  it  be  any  way  in  my 
power  to  prevent  it.  Your  younger  daughter  I  will  pro- 
vide for,  and  as  for  my  little  prattler,  your  elder,  as  I 
never  yet  thought  of  any  woman  for  a  wife,  I  will  receive 
her  as  such  at  your  hands ;  nor  will  I  ever  relinquish  her 
for  another."  Heartfree  flew  to  his  friend,  and  embraced 
him  with  raptures  of  acknowledgment.  He  vowed  to  him 
that  he  had  eased  every  anxious  thought  of  his  mind  but 
one,  and  that  he  must  carry  with  him  out  of  the  world. 


14G  JONATHAN  WILD. 

"  O  Friendly  !"  cried  he,  "it  is  my  concern  for  that  best 
of  women,  whom  I  liate  myself  for  having-  ever  censured 
in  my  opinion.  O  Friendly !  thou  didst  know  her  good- 
ness; yet,  sure,  her  perfect  character  none  but  myself 
was  ever  acquainted  with.  She  had  every  perfection, 
both  of  mind  and  body,  which  heaven  hath  indulged 
to  her  whole  sex,  and  possessed  all  in  a  higher  excel- 
lence than  nature  ever  indulged  to  another  in  any  single 
virtue.  Can  I  bear  the  loss  of  such  a  woman?  Can 
I  bear  the  apprehensions  of  what  mischiefs  that  villain 
may  have  done  to  her,  of  which  death  is  perhaps  the 
lightest?"  Friendly  gently  interrupted  him  as  soon  as 
he  saw  any  opportunity,  endeavoring  to  comfort  him  on 
this  head  likewise,  by  magnifying-  every  circumstance 
which  could  possibly  afford  any  hopes  of  his  seeing-  her 
again. 

By  this  kind  of  behavior,  in  which  the  young  man 
exemplified  so  uncommon  a  height  of  friendship,  he  had 
soon  obtained  in  the  castle  the  character  of  as  odd  and 
silly  a  fellow  as  his  master.  Indeed  they  were  both  the 
bj^vord,  laughing-stock,  and  contempt  of  the  whole  place. 

The  sessions  now  came  on  at  the  Old  Bailey.  The 
grand  jury  at  Hicks's  Hall  had  found  the  bill  of  indict- 
ment against  Heartfree,  and  on  the  second  day  of  the 
session  he  was  brought  to  his  trial ;  where,  notwithstand- 
ing the  utmost  efforts  of  Friendly  and  the  honest  old 
female  servant,  the  circumstances  of  the  fact  corroborat- 
ing the  evidence  of  Fireblood,  as  well  as  that  of  Wild, 
who  counterfeited  the  most  artful  reluctance  at  appearing 
against  his  old  friend  Heartfree,  the  jury  found  the 
prisoner  guilty. 

Wild  had  now  accomplished  his  scheme ;  for  as  to  what 
remained,  it  was  certainly  unavoidable,  seeing  that  Heart- 
free  was  entirely  void  of  interest  with  the  great,  and  was 
besides  convicted  on  a  statute  the  infringers  of  which  could 
hope  no  pardon. 

The  catastrophe  to  which  our  hero  has  reduced  this 


JONATHAN  WILD.  U7 

wretch  was  so  wonderful  an  effort  of  greatness,  that  it 
probably  made  Fortune  envious  of  her  own  darling  ;  but 
whether  it  was  from  this  envy,  or  only  from  that  known 
inconstancy  and  weakness  so  often  and  judiciously  re- 
marked in  that  lady's  temper,  who  frequently  lifts  men 
to  the  summit  of  human  greatness,  only 

ut  lapsu  graviore  ruant ; 
certain  it  is,  she  now  began  to  meditate  mischief  against 
Wild,  who  seems  to  have  come  to  that  period  at  which  all 
heroes  have  arrived,  and  which  she  was  resolved  they 
should  never  transcend.  In  short,  there  seems  to  be  a 
certain  measure  of  mischief  and  iniquity  which  every 
great  man  is  to  fill  up,  and  then  Fortune  looks  on  him  of 
no  more  use  than  a  silkworm  whose  bottom  is  spun,  and 
deserts  him.  Mr.  Blueskin  was  convicted  the  same  day 
of  robbery,  by  our  hero,  an  unkindness  which,  though  he 
had  drawn  on  himself,  and  necessitated  him  to,  he  took 
greatly  amiss  :  as  Wild,  therefore,  was  standing  near 
him,  with  that  disregard  and  indifference  which  great 
men  are  too  carelessly  inclined  to  have  for  those  whom 
they  have  ruined,  Blueskin,  privily  drawing  a  knife,  thrust 
the  same  into  the  body  of  our  hero  with  such  violence, 
that  all  who  saw  it  concluded  he  had  done  his  business. 
And,  indeed,  had  not  fortune,  not  so  much  out  of  love  for 
our  hero,  as  from  a  fixed  resolution  to  accomplish  a  certain 
purpose,  of  which  we  have  formerly  given  a  hint,  care- 
fully placed  his  guts  out  of  the  way,  be  must  have  fallen 
a  sacrifice  to  the  wrath  of  his  enemy,  which,  as  he  after- 
wards said,  he  did  not  deserve  ;  for,  had  he  been  content 
to  have  robbed  and  only  submitted  to  give  him  the  booty, 
he  might  have  still  continued  safe  and  unimpeached  in 
the  gang ;  but,  so  it  was,  that  the  knife,  missing  those 
noble  parts  (the  noblest  of  many),  the  guts,  perforated 
only  the  hollow  of  his  belly,  and  caused  no  other  harm 
than  an  immoderate  effusion  of  blood,  of  which,  though 
it  at  present  weakened  him,  he  soon  after  recovered. 
This  accident,  however,  was  in  the  end  attended  with 


148  JONATHAN  WILD. 

worse  consequences  :  for  as  very  few  people  (those  great- 
est of  all  men,  absolute  princes  excepted)  attempt  to  cut 
tlie  thread  of  human  life,  like  the  fatal  sisters,  merely 
out  of  wantonness  and  for  tlieir  diversion,  ])ut  rather  by 
so  doing  propose  to  themselves  the  acquisition  of  some 
future  good,  or  the  avenging  some  past  evil  ;  and  as  the 
former  of  these  motives  did  not  appear  probable,  it  put 
inquisitive  persons  on  examining  into  the  latter.  Now, 
as  the  vast  schemes  of  Wild,  when  they  were  discovered, 
however  great  in  their  nature,  seemed  to  some  persons, 
like  the  in-ojects  of  most  other  such  persons,  rather  to  be 
calculated  for  the  glory  of  the  great  man  himself  than 
to  redound  to  the  general  good  of  society,  designs  began 
to  be  laid  by  several  of  those  who  thought  it  principally 
their  duty  to  put  a  stop  to  the  future  progress  of  our 
hero  ;  and  a  learned  judge  particularly,  a  great  enemy 
to  this  kind  of  greatness,  procured  a  clause  in  an  act  of 
parliament  as  a  trap  for  Wild,  which  he  soon  after  fell 
into.  By  this  law  it  was  made  capital  in  a  prig  to  steal 
with  the  hands  of  other  people.  A  law  so  plainly  calcu- 
lated for  the  destruction  of  all  priggish  greatness,  that 
it  was  impossible  for  our  hero  to  avoid  it. 


CHAPTER  II. 

A  short  hint  concerning  popular  ingratitude.  Mr.  Wild's  arrival 
in  the  castle,  with  other  occurrences  to  be  found  in  no  other 
history. 

If  we  had  any  leisure  we  would  here  digress  a  little  on 
that  ingratitude  which  so  many  writers  have  observed  to 
spring  up  in  the  people  of  all  free  governments  towards 
their  great  men  ;  who  while  they  have  been  consulting 
the  good  of  the  x^ublic,  by  raising  tlieir  own  greatness,  in 
which  the  whole  body  (as  the  kingdom  of  France  thinks 
itself  in  the  glory  of  their  grand  monarch)  was  so  deeply 
concerned,  have  been  sometimes  sacrificed  by  those  very 


JONATHAN  WILD.  149 

people  for  whose  glory  the  said  great  men  were  so  indus- 
triousl}'-  at  work  :  and  this  from  a  foolish  zeal  for  a  cer- 
tain ridiculous  imaginary  thing  called  libertj^  to  which 
great  men  are  observed  to  have  a  great  animosity. 

This  law  had  been  promulgated  a  very  little  time  when 
Mr.  Wild,  having  received  from  some  dutiful  members  of 
the  gang  a  valuable  piece  of  goods,  did,  for  a  consideration 
somewhat  short  of  its  original  price,  reconvey  it  to  the 
right  owner;  for  which  fact,  being  ungratefully  in- 
formed against  by  the  said  owner,  he  was  surprised  in  his 
own  house,  and,  being  overpowered  by  numbers,  was 
hurried  before  a  magistrate,  and  by  him  committed  to 
that  castle,  which,  suitable  as  it  is  to  greatness,  we  do  not 
choose  to  name  too  often  in  our  history,  and  where  many 
great  men  at  this  time  happen  to  be  assembled. 

The  governor,  or,  as  the  law  more  honorably  calls  him , 
keeper  of  this  castle,  was  Mr.  Wild's  old  friend  and 
acquaintance.  This  made  the  latter  greatly  satisfied 
with  the  place  of  his  confinement,  as  he  promised  himself 
not  only  a  kind  reception  and  handsome  accommodation 
there,  but  even  to  obtain  his  liberty  from  him  if  he 
thought  it  necessary  to  desire  it ;  but,  alas  !  he  was  de- 
ceived ;  his  old  friend  knew  him  no  longer,  and  refused 
to  see  him,  and  the  lieutenant-governor  insisted  on  as 
high  garnish  for  fetters,  and  as  exorbitant  a  price  for 
lodging,  as  if  he  had  had  a  fine  gentleman  in  custody  for 
murder,  or  any  other  genteel  crime. 

To  confess  a  melancholy  truth,  it  is  a  circumstance 
much  to  be  lamented,  that  there  is  no  absolute  dependence 
on  the  friendship  of  great  men ;  an  observation  which 
hath  been  frequently  made  by  those  who  have  lived  in 
courts,  or  in  Newgate,  or  in  any  other  place  set  apart  for 
the  habitation  of  such  persons. 

The  second  day  of  his  confinement  he  was  greatly  sur- 
prised at  receiving  a  visit  from  his  wife;  and  much  more 
so,  when,  instead  of  a  countenance  ready  to  insult  him, 
the  only  motive  to  which  he  could  ascribe  her  presence, 


150  JONATHAN   WILD. 

he  saw  the  tears  trickling  down  her  lovely  checks.  He 
embraced  her  with  the  utmost  marks  of  affections,  and 
declared  he  could  hardly  regret  his  confinement,  since 
it  had  produced  such  an  instance  of  the  happiness  he  en- 
joyed in  her,  whose  fidelity  to  him  on  this  occasion  would, 
he  believed,  make  him  the  envy  of  most  husbands,  even 
in  Newgate.  He  then  begged  her  to  dry  her  eyes,  and  be 
comforted ;  for  that  matters  might  go  better  with  him 
than  she  expected.  "No,  no,"  says  she,  "I  am  certain 
you  would  be  found  guilty  Death.  I  knew  what  it  would 
always  come  to.  I  told  you  it  was  impossible  to  carry  on 
such  a  trade  long ;  but  you  would  not  be  advised,  and 
now  3'ou  see  the  consequence — now  you  repent  when  it  is 
too  late.  All  the  comfort  I  shall  have  when  you  are 
nubbecl*  is,  that  I  gave  you  a  good  advice.  If  you  had 
always  gone  out  by  yourself,  as  I  would  have  had  you,  you 
might  have  robbed  on  to  the  end  of  the  chapter ;  but  you 
was  wiser  than  all  the  w^orld,  or  rather  lazier,  and  see  what 
your  laziness  is  come  to — to  the  cheat, \  for  thither  you  will 
now  go,  that's  infallible.  And  a  just  judgment  on  you 
for  following  your  headstrong  will ;  I  am  the  only  person 
to  be  pitied ;  poor  I,  who  shall  be  scandalized  for  your 
fault.  There  goes  she  ivhose  husband  was  hanged  :  me- 
thinks  I  hear  them  crying  so  already."  At  which  words 
she  burst  into  tears.  He  could  not  then  forebear  chiding 
her  for  this  unnecessary  concern  on  his  account,  and 
begged  her  not  to  trouble  him  any  more.  She  answered 
with  some  spirit,  "  On  your  account,  and  be  d — d  to  you  ! 
No,  if  the  old  cull  of  a  justice  had  not  sent  me  hither,  I  be- 
lieve it  would  have  been  long  enough  before  I  should  have 
come  hither  to  see  after  you ;  d — n  me,  I  am  committed 
for  the  filing -lay, I  man,  and  we  shall  be  both  nubbed  to- 
gether. I 'faith,  my  dear,  it  almost  makes  me  amends  for 
being  nubbed  myself  to  have  the  pleasure  of  seeing  thee 
nubbed  too. — "Indeed,  my  dear,"  answered  Wild,  "it is 
what  I  have  long  wished  for  thee ;  but  I  do  not  desire  to 

*  The  cant  word  for  hanging.  t  The  gallows.  t  Picking  pockets. 


JONATHAN  WILD.  151 

"bear  thee  company,  and  I  have  still  hopes  to  have  the 
pleasure  of  seeing"  you  go  without  me ;  at  least  I  will 
have  the  pleasure  to  be  rid  of  you  now."  And  so  saying, 
he  seized  her  by  the  waist,  and  with  strong-  arm  flung  her 
out  of  the  room ;  but  not  before  she  had  with  her  nails 
left  a  bloody  memorial  on  his  cheek ;  and  thus  this  fond 
couple  parted. 

Wild  had  scarce  recovered  himself  from  the  uneasiness 
into  which  this  unwelcome  visit,  proceeding  from  the  dis- 
agreeable fondness  of  his  wife,  had  thrown  him,  than  the 
faithful  Achates  appeared.  The  presence  of  this  youth 
was  indeed  a  cordial  to  his  spirits.  He  received  him  with 
open  arms,  and  expressed  the  utmost  satisfaction  in 
the  fidelity  of  his  friendship,  which  so  far  exceeded  the 
fashion  of  the  times,  and  said  many  things  which  we  have 
forgot  on  the  occasion  ;  but  we  remember  they  all  tended 
to  the  praise  of  Fireblood,  whose  modesty,  at  length,  put 
a  stop  to  the  torrent  of  compliments,  by  asserting-  he  had 
done  no  more  than  his  duty,  and  that  he  should  have  de- 
tested himself  could  he  have  forsaken  his  friend  in  his  ad- 
versity ;  and,  after  many  protestations  that  he  came  the 
moment  he  heard  of  his  misfortune,  he  asked  him  if  he 
could  be  of  any  service,  Wild  answered,  since  he  had  so 
kindly  proposed  that  question,  he  must  say  he  should  be 
obliged  to  him  if  he  could  lend  him  a  few  guineas ;  for 
that  he  was  very  seedy.  Fireblood  replied  that  he  was 
greatly  unhappy  in  not  having  it  then  in  his  power,  add- 
ing many  oaths  that  he  had  not  a  farthing  of  money  in 
his  pocket,  which  was,  indeed,  strictly  true ;  for  he  had 
only  a  banknote,  which  he  had  that  evening  purloined 
from  a  gentleman  in  the  playhouse  passage.  He  then 
asked  for  his  wife,  to  whom,  to  speak  truly,  the  visit  was 
intended,  her  confinement  being  the  misfortune  of  which 
he  had  just  heard;  for,  as  for  that  of  Mr.  Wild  himself, 
he  had  known  it  from  the  first  minute,  without  ever  in- 
tending to  trouble  him  with  his  company.  Being  in^ 
formed  therefore  of  the  visit  which  had  lately  happened. 


153  JONATHAN  WILD, 

he  reproved  Wild  for  his  cruel  treatment  of  that  good 
creature ;  then  taking-  as  sudden  a  leave  as  he  civilly 
could  of  the  gentleman,  he  hastened  to  comfort  his  lady, 
who  received  him  with  great  kindness. 


CHAPTER  III. 
Curious  anecdotes  relating  to  the  history  of  Newgate. 

There  resided  in  the  castle  at  the  same  time  with  Mr. 
Wild  one  Roger  Johnson,  a  very  great  man,  who  had 
long  be  en  atthehead  of  all  the  prigs  in  Newgate,  and  had 
raised  contributions  on  them.  He  examined  into  the 
nature  of  their  defense,  procured  and  instructed  their 
evidence,  and  made  himself,  at  least  in  their  opinion,  so 
necessary  to  them,  that  the  whole  fate  of  Newgate  seemed 
entirely  to  depend  upon  him. 

Wild  had  not  been  long  in  confinement  before  he  began 
to  oppose  this  man.  He  represented  'h.iro.to  tYiQ prigs 
as  a  fellow  w^ho,  under  the  plausible  pretence  of  assist- 
ing their  causes,  was  in  reality  undermining  the  liber- 
ties OP  Newgate.  He  at  first  threw  out  certain  sly  hints 
and  insinuations  ;  but,  having  by  degrees  formed  a  party 
against  Roger,  he  one  day  assembled  them  together,  and 
spoke  to  them  in  the  following  florid  manner: 

"  Friends  and  fellow  citizens, — The  cause  which  I  am  to 
mention  to  you  this  day  is  of  such  mighty  importance, 
that  when  I  consider  my  own  small  abilities,  I  tremble 
with  an  apprehension  lest  your  safety  may  be  rendered 
precarious  by  the  weakness  of  him  who  hath  undertaken 
to  represent  to  you  your  danger.  Gentlemen,  the  liberty 
of  Newgate  is  at  stake:  your  privileges  have  been  long 
undermined,  and  are  now  openly  violated  by  one  man;  by 
one  who  hath  engrossed  to  himself  the  whole  conduct  of 
your  trials,  under  color  of  which  he  exacts  what  contri- 
butions on  you  he  pleases:  but  are  those  sums  appropri- 


JONATHAN  WILD,  153 

ated  to  the  uses  for  which  they  are  raised  ?  Your  fre- 
quent convictions  at  the  Old  Bailey,  those  depredations 
of  justice,  must  too  sensibly  and  sorely  demonstrate  the 
contrary.  What  evidence  doth  he  ever  produce  for  the 
prisoner  which  the  prisoner  himself  could  not  have  pro- 
vided, and  often  better  instructed?  How  many  noble 
youths  have  there  been  lost  when  a  single  alihi  would 
have  saved  them  !  Should  I  be  silent,  nay,  could  your 
own  injuries  want  a  tongue  to  remonstrate,  the  very 
breath  which  by  his  neglect  hath  been  stopped  at  the 
cheat  would  cry  out  loudly  against  him.  Nor  is  the  ex- 
orbitancy of  his  plunders  visible  only  in  the  dreadful  con- 
sequences it  hath  produced  to  the  prigs,  nor  glares  it  only 
in  the  miseries  brought  on  them ;  it  blazes  forth  in  the 
more  desirable  effects  it  hath  wrought  for  himself,  in  the 
rich  perquisites  required  by  it ;  witness  that  silk  night- 
gown, that  robe  of  shame,  which,  to  his  eternal  dishonor, 
he  publicly  wears;  that  gown  which  I  will  not  scruple  to 
call  the  winding-sheet  of  the  liberties  of  Newgate.  Is 
there  a  prig  who  hath  the  interest  and  honor  of  New- 
gate so  little  at  heart  that  he  can  refrain  from  blushing 
when  he  beholds  that  trophy,  purchased  with  the  breath 
of  so  many  prigs  ?  Nor  is  this  all.  His  waistcoat  em- 
broidered with  silk,  and  his  velvet  cap,  bought  with  the 
same  price,  are  ensigns  of  the  same  disgrace.  Some 
would  think  the  rags  which  covered  his  nakedness  when 
first  he  was  committed  hither  well  exchanged  for  these 
gaudy  trappings:  but  in  my  eye  no  exchange  can  be  prof- 
itable when  dishonor  is  the  condition.  If,  therefore, 
Newgate "  Here  the  only  copy  which  we  could  pro- 
cure of  this  speech  breaks  off  abruptly;  however,  w^e  can 
assure  the  reader,  from  very  authentic  information,  that 
he  concluded  with  advising  the  prigs  to  put  their  affairs 
into  other  hands.  After  which,  one  of  his  party,  as  had 
been  before  concerted,  in  a  very  long  speech  recommended 
him  (Wild  himself)  to  their  choice. 
Newgate  was  divided  into  parties  on  this  occasion ;  the 


154  JONATHAN  WILD. 

prigs  on  each  side  representing-  their  chief  or  great  man 
to  be  the  onl}'  person  by  whom  the  allairs  of  Newgate 
could  be  managed  with  safety  and  advantage.  ^\\q prigs 
had  indeed  verj'  incompatible  interests:  for,  whereas  the 
supporters  of  Johnson,  who  was  in  possession  of  the  plun- 
der of  Newgate,  were  admitted  to  some  share  under  their 
leader,  so  the  abettors  of  Wild  had,  on  his  promotion, 
the  same  views  of  dividing  some  part  of  the  spoil  among 
themselves.  It  is  no  wonder,  therefore,  they  were  both 
so  warm  on  each  side.  What  may  seem  more  remark- 
able was,  that  the  debtors,  who  were  entirely  uncon- 
cerned in  the  dispute,  and  who  were  the  destined  plunder 
of  both  parties,  should  interest  themselves  with  the  ut- 
most violence,  some  on  behalf  of  Wild,  and  others  in 
favor  of  Johnson.  So  that  all  Newgate  resounded  with 
Wild  forever,  Johnson  forever.  And  the  poor  debtors 
re-echoed  the  liberties  of  Neivgate,  which,  in  the  cant 
language,  signifies  plunder,  as  loudly  as  the  thieves  them- 
selves. In  short,  such  quarrels  and  animosities  happened 
between  them,  that  they  seemed  rather  the  people  of  two 
countries  long  at  war  with  each  other  than  the  inhabit- 
ants of  the  same  castle. 

Wild's  party  at  length  prevailed,  and  he  succeeded  to 
the  place  and  power  of  Johnson,  w^hom  he  presently 
stripped  of  all  his  finery  ;  but,  when  it  was  proposed  that 
he  should  sell  it  and  divide  the  money  for  the  good  of  the 
whole,  he  waved  that  motion,  sa3ing  it  was  not  yet  time, 
that  he  should  find  a  better  opportunity,  that  the  clothes 
wanted  cleaning,  with  many  other  pretences,  and  within 
two  days,  to  the  surprise  of  many,  he  appeared  in  them 
himself;  for  which  lie  vouchsafed  no  other  apology  than 
that  they  fitted  him  much  better  than  they  did  Johnson, 
and  that  they  became  him  in  a  much  more  elegant  man- 
ner. 

This  behavior  of  Wild  greatly  incensed  the  debtors, 
particularly  those  by  whose  means  he  had  been  pro- 
moted.    They  grumbled  extremely,  and  vented  great  in- 


JONATHAN  WILD.  155 

dignation  against  Wild;  when  one  day  a  very  grave  man, 
and  one  of  much  authority  among  them,  bespake  them 
as  follows: 

"Nothing  sure  can  be  more  justly  ridiculous  than  the 
conduct  of  those  who  should  lay  the  lamb  in  the  wolf's 
waj',  and  then  should  lament  his  being  devoured.  What 
a  wolf  is  in  a  sheep-fold,  a  great  man  is  in  society.  Now, 
when  one  wolf  is  in  possession  of  a  sheep-fold,  how  little 
would  it  avail  the  simple  flock  to  expel  him  and  place 
another  in  his  stead  !  Of  the  same  benefit  to  us  is  the 
overthrowing  one  prig  in  favor  of  another.  And  for 
what  other  advantage  was  your  struggle  ?  Did  you  not 
all  know  that  Wild  and  his  followers  w&re  prigs,  as  well 
as  Johnson  and  his  ?  What  then  could  the  contention  be 
among  such  but  that  which  you  have  now  discovered  it  to 
have  been  ?  Perhaps  some  would  say,  is  it  then  our  duty 
tamely  to  submit  to  the  rapine  of  the  prig  who  now  plun- 
ders us  for  fear  of  an  exchange  ?  Surely  no :  but  I 
answer,  it  is  better  to  shake  the  plunder  off  than  to  ex- 
change the  plunderer.  And  by  what  means  can  we  effect 
this  but  by  a  total  change  of  our  manners  ?  Every  prig 
is  a  slave.  His  own  priggish  desires,  which  enslave  him, 
themselves  betray  him  to  the  tyranny  of  others.  To 
preserve,  therefore,  the  liberty  of  Newgate,  is  to  change 
the  manners  of  Newgate.  Let  us,  therefore,  who  are  con- 
fined, here  for  debt  only  separate  ourselves  entirely  from 
the  prigs;  neither  drink  with  them  nor  converse  with 
them.  Let  us  at  the  same  time  separate  ourselves  farther 
from  priggism  itself.  Instead  of  being  ready,  on  every 
opportunity,  to  pillage  each  other,  let  us  be  content  with 
our  honest  share  of  the  common  bounty,  and  with  the 
acquisition  of  our  own  industry.  When  we  separate  from 
the  prigs,  let  us  enter  into  a  closer  alliance  with  one 
another.  Let  us  consider  ourselves  all  as  members  of  one 
community,  to  the  public  good  of  which  we  are  to  sacri- 
fice our  private  views ;  not  to  give  up  the  interest  of  the 
whole  for  every  little  pleasure  or  profit  which  shall  accrue 


156  JONATHAN  WILD. 

to  ourselves.  Liberty  is  consistent  %vith  no  degree  of 
holiest}'  inferior  to  this,  and  the  community  where  this 
abounds  no  i)rig  will  have  the  impudence  or  audacious- 
ness to  endeavor  to  enslave;  or  if  he  should,  his  own  de- 
struction would  be  the  onl^-  consequence  of  his  attempt. 
But  while  one  man  pursues  his  ambition,  another  his 
interest,  another  his  safety ;  while  one  hath  a  roguery  (a 
priggism  they  here  call  it)  to  commit,  and  another  a 
roguery  to  defend  ;  they  must  naturally  fly  to  the  favor 
and  protection  of  those  who  have  power  to  give  them 
what  they  desire,  and  to  defend  them  from  what  they 
fear;  nay,  in  this  view  it  becomes  their  interest  to 
promote  this  power  in  their  patrons.  Now,  gentlemen, 
when  we  are  no  longer  prigs,  we  shall  no  longer  have 
these  fears  or  these  desires.  What  remains  therefore  for 
us  but  to  resolve  bravely  to  lay  aside  our  priggism,  our 
roguery  in  plainer  words,  and  preserve  our  liberty,  or  to 
give  up  the  latter  in  the  preservation  and  preference  of 
the  former?" 

This  speech  w^as  received  with  much  applause ;  how- 
ever, Wild  continued  as  before  to  levy  contributions 
among  the  prisoners,  to  apply  the  garnish  to  his  own  use, 
and  to  strut  openlj'  in  the  ornaments  which  he  had  stripped 
from  Johnson.  To  speak  sincerely  there  was  more  bra- 
vado than  real  use  or  advantage  in  these  trappings.  As 
for  the  nightgown,  its  outside  indeed  made  a  glittering 
tinsel  appearance,  but  it  kept  him  not  warm,  nor  could 
the  finery  of  it  do  him  much  honor,  since  every  one  knew 
it  did  not  properly  belong  to  him  ;  as  to  the  waistcoat,  it 
fitted  him  very  ill,  being  infinitely  too  big  for  him  ;  and 
the  cap  was  so  heavy  that  it  made  his  head  ache.  Thus 
these  clothes,  w^hich  perhaps  (as  they  presented  the  idea 
of  their  misery  more  sensibly  to  the  people's  eyes)  brought 
him  more  envy,  hatred,  and  detraction,  than  all  his 
deeper  impositions  and  more  real  advantages,  afforded 
very  little  use  or  honor  to  the  wearer ;  nay,  could  scarce 
serve  to  amuse  his  own  vanity  when  this  was  cool  enough 


JONATHAN   WILD.  157 

to  reflect  with  the  least  seriousness.  And,  should  I  speak 
in  the  language  of  a  man  who  estimated  human  happiness 
without  regard  to  that  greatness  which  we  have  so  labo- 
riously endeavored  to  paint  in  this  history,  it  is  probable 
he  never  took  {i.  e.  robbed  the  prisoners  of)  a  shilling 
which  he  himself  did  not  paj^  too  dear  for. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

The  dead-warrant  arrives  for  Heartfree ;  on  which  occasion  Wild 
betrays  some  human  weakness. 

The  dead- warrant,  as  it  is  called,  now  came  down  to 
Newgate  for  the  execution  of  Heartfree  among  the  rest  of 
the  prisoners.  And  here  the  reader  must  excuse  us,  who 
profess  to  draw  natural,  not  perfect  characters,  and  to 
record  the  truths  of  history,  not  the  extravagances  of 
romance,  while  we  relate  a  weakness  in  Wild  of  which  we 
are  ourselves  ashamed,  and  which  we  would  willingly 
have  concealed,  could  we  have  preserved  at  the  same  time 
that  strict  attachment  to  truth  and  impartialitr^'-  which  we 
have  professed  in  recording  the  annals  of  this  great  man. 
Know  then,  reader,  that  this  dead-warrant  did  not  affect 
Heartfree,  who  was  to  suffer  a  shameful  death  by  it,  with 
half  the  concern  it  gave  Wild,  who  had  been  the  occasion 
of  it.  He  had  been  a  little  struck  the  day  before  on  seeing 
the  children  carried  away  in  tears  from  their  father. 
This  sight  brought  the  remembrance  of  some  slight 
injuries  he  had  done  the  father  to  his  mind,  which  he 
endeavored  as  much  as  possible  to  obliterate ;  but,  when 
one  of  the  keepers  (I  should  say  lieutenants  of  the  castle) 
repeated  Heartfree's  name  among  those  of  the  malefac- 
tors who  were  to  suffer  within  a  few  days,  the  blood 
forsook  his  countenance,  and  in  a  cold  still  stream  moved 
heavily  to  his  heart,  which  had  scarce  strength  enough 
left  to  return  it  through  his  veins.     In  short,  his  body  so 


158  JONATHAN  WILD. 

visibly  demonstrated  the  pangs  of  his  mind,  that  to  escape 
observation  he  retired  to  his  room,  where  he  sullenly 
g-ave  vent  to  such  bitter  agonies,  that  even  the  injured 
Heartfree,  had  not  the  apprehension  of  what  his  wife  had 
suffered  shut  every  avenue  of  compassion,  would  have 
pitied  him. 

When  his  mind  was  thoroughl}'  fatigued  and  worn  out 
with  the  horrors  which  the  approaching  fate  of  the  poor 
wretch  who  lay  under  a  sentence  which  he  had  iniquit- 
ously  brought  upon  him  had  suggested,  sleep  promised 
him  relief ;  but  this  promise  was,  alas !  delusive.  This 
certain  friend  to  the  tired  body  is  often  the  severest  enemy 
to  the  oppressed  mind.  So  at  least  it  proved  to  Wild, 
adding  visionary  to  real  horrors,  and  tormenting  his 
imagination  with  phantoms  too  dreadful  to  be  described. 
At  length,  starting  from  these  visions,  he  no  sooner  re- 
covered his  waking  senses,  than  he  cried  out — "  I  may 
yet  prevent  this  catastrophe.  It  is  not  too  late  to  dis- 
cover the  whole. "  He  then  paused  a  moment ;  but  great- 
ness, instantly  returning  to  his  assistance,  checked  the 
base  thought,  as  it  first  offered  itself  to  his  mind.  He 
then  reasoned  thus  coolly  with  himself : — "  Shall  I,  like  a 
child,  or  a  woman,  or  one  of  those  mean  wretches  whom 
I  have  always  despised,  be  frightened  by  dreams  and  vis- 
ionary phantoms  to  sully  that  honor  which  I  have  so  dif- 
ficultly acquired  and  so  gloriously  maintained  ?  Shall  I, 
to  redeem  the  worthless  life  of  this  silly  fellow,  suffer  my 
reputation  to  contract  a  stain  which  the  blood  of  millions 
cannot  wipe  away  ?  Was  it  only  that  the  few,  the  simple 
part  of  mankind,  should  call  me  rogue,  perhaps  I  could 
submit ;  but  to  be  for  ever  contemptible  to  the  prigs,  as 
a  wretch  who  wanted  spirit  to  execute  my  undertaking, 
can  never  be  digested.  What  is  the  life  of  a  single  man  ? 
Have  not  whole  armies  and  nations  been  sacrificed  to  the 
honor  of  one  great  man  ?  Nay,  to  omit  that  first-class 
of  greatness,  the  conquerors  of  mankind,  how  often  have 
numbers  fallen  by  a  fictitious  plot  only  to  satisfy  the 


JONATHAN  WILD.  159 

spleen,  or  perhaps  exercise  the  ingenuity,  of  a  member  of 
that  second  order  of  greatness,  the  ministerial !  What 
have  1  done  then  ?  Why,  I  have  ruined  a  family,  and 
brought  an  innocent  man  to  the  gallows.  I  ought  rather 
to  weep  with  Alexander  that  I  have  ruined  no  more  than 
to  regret  the  little  I  have  done."  He  at  length,  there- 
fore, bravely  resolved  to  consign  over  Heartfree  to  his 
fate,  though  it  cost  him  more  struggling  than  may  easily 
be  believed,  utterly  to  conquer  his  reluctance,  and  to  ban- 
ish away  every  degree  of  humanity  from  his  mind,  these 
little  sparks  of  which  composed  one  of  those  weaknesses 
which  we  lamented  in  the  opening  of  our  history. 

But,  in  vindication  of  our  hero,  we  must  beg  leave  to 
observe  that  Nature  is  seldom  so  kind  as  those  writers 
who  draw  characters  absolutely  perfect.  She  seldom 
creates  any  man  so  completely  great,  or  completely  low, 
but  that  some  sparks  of  humanity  will  glimmer  in  the 
former,  and  some  sparks  of  what  the  vulgar  call  evil  will 
dart  forth  in  the  latter ;  utterly  to  extinguish  which  will 
give  some  pain,  and  uneasiness  to  both  ;  for  I  apprehend 
no  mind  was  ever  yet  formed  entirely  free  from  blemish, 
unless  peradventure  that  of  a  sanctified  hypocrite,  whose 
praises  some  well-fed  flatterer  hath  gratefully  thought 
proper  to  sing  forth. 


CHAPTER  V. 

Containing  various  matters. 

The  day  was  now  come  when  poor  Heartfree  was  to 
suffer  an  ignominious  death.  Friendly  had  in  the  strong- 
est manner  confirmed  his  assurance  of  fulfilling  his  prom- 
ise of  becoming  a  father  to  one  of  his  children  and  a  hus- 
band to  the  other.  This  gave  him  inexpressible  comfort, 
and  he  had,  the  evening  before,  taken  his  last  leave  of 
the  little  wretches  with  a  tenderness  which  drew  a  tear 


IGO  JONATHAN  WILD. 

from  one  of  the  keepers,  joined  to  a  mag-nanimity  which 
would  have  pleased  a  stoic.  When  he  was  informed  that 
the  coach  which  Friendly  had  provided  for  him  was 
ready,  and  that  the  rest  of  the  prisoners  were  gone,  he 
embraced  that  faithful  friend  with  great  passion,  and 
begged  that  he  would  leave  him  here ;  but  the  other  de- 
sired leave  to  accompany  him  to  his  end,  which  at  last  he 
was  forced  to  comply  with.  And  now  he  was  proceeding- 
towards  the  coach  when  he  found  his  difRculties  were  not 
yet  over ;  for  now  a  friend  arrived  of  whom  he  was  to 
take  a  harder  and  more  tender  leave  than  he  had  yet  gone 
through.  This  friend,  reader,  was  no  other  than  Mrs. 
Heartfree  herself,  who  ran  to  him  with  a  look  all  A\ild, 
staring,  and  frantic,  and  having  reached  his  arms,  fainted 
away  in  them  without  uttering  a  single  syllable.  Heart- 
free  was,  with  great  difTiculty,  able  to  preserve  his  own 
senses  in  such  a  surprise  at  such  a  season.  And  indeed 
our  good-natured  reader  will  be  rather  inclined  to  wish 
this  miserable  couple  had,  by  dying  in  each  other's  arms, 
put  a  final  period  to  their  woes,  than  have  survived  to 
taste  those  bitter  moments  which  were  to  be  their  por- 
tion, and  which  the  unhappy  wife,  soon  recovering  from 
the  short  intermission  of  being,  now  began  to  suffer. 
When  she  became  first  mistress  of  her  voice  she  burst 
forth  into  the  following  accents  : — *'  O  my  husband  !  Is 
this  the  condition  in  which  I  find  you  after  our  cruel  sepa- 
ration ?  Who  hath  done  this  ?  Cruel  Heaven  !  What 
is  the  occasion  ?  I  know  thou  canst  deserve  no  ill.  Tell 
me,  somebody  who  can  speak,  while  I  have  my  senses  left 
to  understand,  what  is  the  matter?"  At  which  words 
several  laughed,  and  one  answered,  "  The  matter  !  Why 
no  great  matter.  The  gentleman  is  not  the  first,  nor 
won't  be  the  last :  the  worst  of  the  matter  is,  that  if  we 
are  to  stay  all  the  morning  here  I  shall  lose  my  dinner." 
Heartfree,  pausing  a  moment  and  recollecting  himself, 
cried  out,  "  I  will  bear  all  with  patience."  And  then,  ad- 
dressing himself  to  the  commanding  ofQ.cer,  begged  he 


JONATHAN  WILD.  161 

might  only  have  a  few  minutes  by  himself  with  his  wife, 
whom  he  had  not  seen  before  since  his  misfortunes.  The 
g-reat  man  answered,  "  He  had  compassion  on  him,  and 
would  do  more  than  he  could  answer ;  but  he  supposed 
he  was  too  much  a  gentleman  not  to  know  that  something 
was  due  for  such  civility."  On  this  hint,  Friendly,  who 
was  himself  half  dead,  pulled  five  guineas  out  of  his 
pocket,  which  the  great  man  took,  and  said  he  would  be 
so  generous  to  give  him  ten  minutes ;  on  which  one  ob- 
served that  many  a  gentleman  had  bought  ten  minutes 
with  a  woman  dearer,  and  many  other  facetious  remarks 
w^ere  made  unnecessary  to  be  here  related.  Heartfree 
was  now  suffered  to  retire  into  a  room  with  his  wife,  the 
commander  informing  him  at  his  entrance  that  he  must 
be  expeditious,  for  that  the  rest  of  the  good  company 
would  be  at  the  tree  before  him,  and  he  supposed  he  was 
a  gentleman  of  too  much  breeding  to  make  them  wait. 

This  tender  wretched  couple  were  now  retired  for  these 
few  minutes,  which  the  commander  without  carefully 
measured  with  his  watch ;  and  Heartfree  was  mustering 
all  his  resolution  to  part  with  what  his  soul  so  ardently 
doted  on,  and  to  conjure  her  to  support  his  loss  for 
the  sake  of  her  poor  infants,  and  to  comfort  her  with  the 
promise  of  Friendly  on  their  account ;  but  all  his  design 
was  frustrated.  Mrs.  Heartfree  could  not  support  the 
shock,  but  again  fainted  away,  and  so  entirely  lost  every 
sj^mptom  of  life  that  Heartfree  called  vehemently  for 
assistance.  Friendly  rushed  first  into  the  room,  and  was 
soon  followed  by  many  others,  and,  what  was  remark- 
able, one  who  had  unmoved  beheld  the  tender  scene 
between  these  parting  lovers  was  touched  to  the  quick  by 
the  pale  looks  of  the  woman,  and  ran  up  and  down  for 
water,  drops,  &c.,  with  the  utmost  hurry  and  confusion. 
The  ten  minutes  were  expired,  which  the  commander  now 
hinted  ;  and  seeing  nothmg  offered  for  the  renewal  of  the 
term  (for  indeed  Friendly  had  unhappily  emptied  his 
pockets),  he  began  to  grow  very  importunate,  and  at 


102  JONATHAN  WILD. 

last  told  Heartfree  he  should  be  ashamed  not  to  act 
more  like  a  man.  Heartfree  begged  his  pardon,  and  said 
he  would  make  him  wait  no  longer.  Then,  with  the 
deepest  sigh,  cried,  "  Oh,  my  angel !"  and,  embracing  his 
wife  with  the  utmost  eagerness,  kissed  her  pale  lips  with 
more  fervency  than  ever  bridegroom  did  the  blushing 
cheeks  of  his  bride.  He  then  cried,  ''  The  Almighty 
bless  thee  !  and,  if  it  be  His  pleasure,  restore  thee  to  life ; 
if  not,  I  beseech  Him  we  may  presently  meet  again  in  a 
better  world  than  this."  He  was  breaking  from  her, 
when,  perceiving  her  senses  returning,  he  could  not  for- 
bear renewing  his  embrace,  and,  again  pressing  her  lips, 
which  now  recovered  life  and  warmth  so  fast  that  he 
begged  one  ten  minutes  more  to  tell  her  what  her  swoon- 
ing had  prevented  her  hearing.  The  worthy  commander, 
being  perhaps  a  little  touched  at  this  tender  scene,  took 
Friendly  aside,  and  asked  him  what  he  would  give  if  he 
would  suffer  his  friend  to  remain  half  an  hour  ?  Friendly 
answered,  anything  ;  that  he  had  no  money  in  his  pocket, 
but  he  would  certainly  pay  him  that  afternoon.  ''  Well, 
then,  I'll  be  moderate,"  said  he;  '' twentj'-  guineas." 
Friendly  answered,  "  It  is  a  bargain."  The  commander, 
having  exacted  a  firm  promise,  *'  Then  I  don't  care  if 
they  stay  a  whole  hour  together;  for  what  signifies  hid- 
ing good  news?  the  gentleman  is  reprieved;"  of  which 
he  had  just  before  received  notice  in  a  whisper.  It  would 
be  very  impertinent  to  o£fer  at  a  description  of  the  joy 
this  occasioned  to  the  two  friends,  or  to  Mrs.  Heartfree, 
who  was  now  again  recovered.  A  surgeon,  who  was 
happily  present,  was  employed  to  bleed  them  all.  After 
which  the  commander,  who  had  the  promise  of  the  money 
again  confirmed  to  him,  wished  Heartfree  joy,  and  shak- 
ing him  very  friendly  by  the  hands,  cleared  the  room 
of  all  the  company,  and  left  the  three  friends  together. 


JONATHAN  WILD.  163 


CHAPTER  VI. 
In  which  the  foregoing  happy  incident  is  accounted  for. 

But  here,  though  I  am  convinced  my  good-natured 
reader  may  almost  want  the  surgeon's  assistance  also, 
and  that  there  is  no  passage  in  this  whole  story  which 
can  afford  him  equal  delight,  yet,  lest  our  reprieve  should 
seem  to  resemble  that  in  the  Beggars'  Opera,  I  shall 
endeavor  to  show  him  that  this  incident,  which  is 
undoubtedly  true,  is  at  least  as  natural  as  delightful ;  for 
we  assure  him  we  would  rather  have  suffered  half  man- 
kind to  be  hanged  than  have  saved  one  contrary  to  the 
strictest  rules  of  writing  and  probability. 

Be  it  known,  then  (a  circumstance  which  I  think  highly 
credible)  that  the  great  Fireblood  had  been,  a  few  days 
before,  taken  in  the  fact  of  a  robbery,  and  carried  before 
the  same  justice  of  the  peace  w^ho  had,  on  his  evidence, 
committed  Heartfree  to  prison.  This  magistrate,  who  did 
indeed  no  small  honor  to  the  commission  he  bore,  duly 
considered  the  weighty  charge  committed  to  him,  by 
which  he  was  intrusted  with  decisions  affecting  the  lives, 
liberties,  and  properties  of  his  countrymen.  He  therefore 
examined  always  with  the  utmost  diligence  and  caution 
into  every  minute  circumstance.  And,  as  he  had  a  good 
deal  balanced,  even  when  he  committed  Heartfree,  on  the 
excellent  character  given  him  by  Friendly  and  the  maid  ; 
and  as  he  was  much  staggered  on  finding  that,  of  the  two 
persons  on  whose  evidence  alone  Heartfree  had  been  com- 
mitted, and  had  been  since  convicted,  one  was  in  Newgate 
for  a  felonj^,  and  the  other  was  now  brought  before  him 
for  a  robbery,  he  thought  proper  to  put  the  matter  very 
home  to  Fireblood  at  this  time.  The  young  Achates  was 
taken,  as  we  have  said,  in  the  fact ;  so  that  denial  he  saw 
was  in  vain.  He  therefore  honestly  confessed  what  he 
knew  must  be  proved  ;  and  desired  on  the  merit  of 
the    discoveries    he  had    made,    to    be    admitted    as 


IG-t  JoyATIlAX   WILD. 

evidence  against  his  accomplices.  This  afforded  tho 
happiest  opportunity  to  the  justice  to  satisfy  his  con- 
science in  rehition  U)  Heartfree.  He  told  Firehlood  that, 
if  he  expected  the  favor  he  solicited,  it  must  be  on  con- 
dition that  he  revealed  the  whole  truth  to  him  concern- 
ing the  evidence  which  ho  had  lately  given  against  a 
bankrui)t,  and  which  some  circumstances  had  induced  a 
suspicion  of ;  that  he  might  depend  on  it  the  truth  would 
be  discovered  by  other  means,  and  gave  some  oblique 
hints  (a  deceit  entirely  justifiable)  that  Wild  himself  had 
offered  such  a  discovery.  The  very  mention  of  Wild's 
name  immediately  alarmed  Fireblood,  who  did  not  in 
the  least  doubt  the  readiness  of  that  great  man  to  hang 
any  of  the  gang  when  his  own  interest  seemed  to  require 
it.  He  therefore  hesitated  not  a  moment,  but,  having 
obtained  a  promise  from  the  justice  that  he  should  be 
accepted  as  an  evidence,  he  discovered  the  whole  false- 
hood, and  declared  he  had  been  seduced  by  Wild  to 
depose  as  he  had  done. 

The  justice,  having  thus  luckily  and  timely  discovered 
this  scene  of  villainy,  alias  greatness,  lost  not  a  moment 
in  using  his  utmost  endeavors  to  get  the  case  of  the 
unhaj^py  convict  represented  to  the  sovereign,  who  im- 
mediately granted  him  that  gracious  reprieve  which 
caused  such  happiness  to  the  persons  concerned ;  and 
which  we  hope  we  have  now  accounted  for  to  the  satis- 
faction of  the  reader. 

The  good  magistrate,  having  obtained  this  reprieve 
for  Heartfree,  thought  it  incumbent  on  him  to  visit  him 
in  the  prison,  and  to  sound,  if  possible,  the  depth  of  this 
affair,  that,  if  he  should  ajDpear  as  innocent  as  he  now 
began  to  conceive  him,  he  might  use  all  imaginable 
methods  to  obtain  his  pardon  and  enlargement. 

The  next  day  therefore  after  that,  when  the  miserable 
scene  above  described  had  passed,  he  went  to  Newgate, 
where  he  found  those  three  persons,  Heartfree,  his  wife, 
and  Friendly,  sitting  together.     The  justice  informed 


JONATHAN  WILD.  165 

the  prisoner  of  the  confession  of  Fireblood,  with  the  steps 
which  he  had  taken  upon  it.  The  reader  will  easily  con- 
ceive the  many  outward  thanks,  as  well  as  inward  grat- 
itude, which  he  received  from  all  three  ;  but  those  were  of 
very  little  consequence  to  him  compared  with  the  secret 
satisfaction  he  felt  in  his  mind  from  refiecting-  on  the 
preservation  of  innocence,  as  he  soon  after  very  clearly 
perceived  was  the  case. 

When  he  entered  the  room  Mrs.  Heartfree  was  speak- 
ing- with  some  earnestness  :  as  he  perceived,  therefore,  he 
had  interrupted  her,  he  begged  she  would  continue  her 
discourse,  which,  if  he  prevented  by  his  presence,  he 
desired  to  depart ;  but  Heartfree  would  not  suffer  it.  He 
said  she  had  been  relating  some  adventures  which  per- 
haps might  entertain  him  to  hear,  and  which  she 
rather  desired  he  would  hear,  as  they  might  serve  to  illus- 
trate the  foundation  on  which  this  falsehood  had  been 
built,  which  had  brought  on  her  husband  all  his  misfor- 
tunes. 

The  justice  very  gladly  consented,  and  Mrs.  Heartfree, 
at  her  husband's  desire,  began  the  relation  from  the  first 
renewal  of  Wild's  acquaintance  with  him ;  but,  though 
this  recapitulation  was  necessarj'-  for  the  information  of 
our  good  magistrate,  as  it  would  be  useless,  and  perhaps 
tedious,  to  the  reader,  we  shall  only  repeat  that  part  of 
her  story  to  which  only  he  is  a  stranger,  beginning  with 
what  happened  to  her  after  Wild  had  been  turned  adrift 
in  the  boat  by  the  captain  of  the  French  privateer. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

Mrs.  Heartfree  relates  her  adventures, 

Mrs.  Heartfree  proceeded  thus :  "  The  vengeance 
which  the  French  captain  exacted  on  that  villain  (our 
hero)  persuaded  me  that  I  was  fallen  into  the  hands  of  a 


166  JONATHAN   WILD. 

man  of  honor  and  justice  ;  nor  indeed  was  it  possible  for 
any  person  to  be  treated  with  more  respect  and  civihty 
than  I  now  was  ;  but  this  could  not  mitigate  m}'  sorrows 
when  I  reflected  on  the  condition  in  which  I  had  been 
betrayed  to  leave  all  that  was  dear  to  me,  much  less 
could  it  produce  such  an  effect  when  I  discovered,  as  I 
soon  did,  that  I  owed  it  cliiell}'  to  a  passion  wliich  threat- 
ened me  with  great  uneasiness,  as  it  quickly  appeared  to 
be  very  violent,  and  as  I  was  absolutely  in  the  power  of 
the  person  who  possessed  it,  or  was  rather  possessed  by 
it.  I  must,  however,  do  him  the  justice  to  say  my  fears 
carried  my  suspicions  farther  than  I  afterwards  found  I 
had  any  reason  to  carry  them  :  he  did  indeed  very  soon 
acquaint  me  with  his  passion,  and  used  all  those  g-entle 
methods  which  frequently  succeed  with  our  sex  to  prevail 
with  me  to  gratify  it ;  but  never  once  threatened,  nor  had 
the  least  recourse  to  force.  He  did  not  even  once  insin- 
uate to  me  that  I  was  totally  in  his  power,  which  I  my- 
self sufficiently  saw,  and  whence  I  drew  the  most  dreadful 
apprehensions,  well  knowing  that,  as  there  are  some  dis- 
positions so  brutal  that  cruelty  adds  a  2;est  and  savor  to 
their  pleasures,  so  there  are  others  whose  gentler  inclina- 
tions are  better  gratified  w^hen  they  win  us  by  softer 
methods  to  comply  with  their  desires ;  yet  that  even  these 
may  be  often  compelled  by  an  unruly  passion  to  have 
recourse  at  last  to  the  means  of  violence,  when  they  de- 
spair of  success  from  persuasion  ;  but  I  was  happily  the 
captive  of  a  better  man.  My  conqueror  was  one  of  those 
over  whom  vice  hath  a  limited  jurisdiction  ;  and,  though 
he  was  too  easily  prevailed  on  to  sin,  he  was  proof  against 
any  temptation  to  villainy. 

*'  We  had  been  two  days  almost  totally  becalmed, 
when,  a  brisk  gale  rising  as  we  were  in  sight  of  Dunkirk, 
we  saw  a  vessel  making  full  sail  towards  us.  The  cap- 
tain of  the  privateer  was  so  strong  that  he  apprehended 
no  danger  but  from  a  man-of-war,  which  the  sailors  dis- 
cerned this  not  to  be.     He  therefore  struck  his  colors,  and 


JONATHAN   WILD.  16^ 

furled  Ms  sails  as  much  as  possible,  in  order  to  lie  by  and 
expect  ber,  hoping-  sbe  mig-bt  be  a  prize."  (Here  Heartr 
free  smiling,  bis  wife  stopped  and  inquired  the  cause.  He 
told  ber  it  was  from  ber  using  tbe  sea-terms  so  aptly  :  sbe 
laughed,  and  answered  be  would  wonder  less  at  this  when 
he  beard  the  long  time  she  had  been  on  board  :  and  then 
proceeded.)  "  This  vessel  now  came  along-side  of  us,  and 
bailed  us,  having  perceived  that  on  which  we  were  aboard 
to  be  of  ber  own  country;  they  begged  us  not  to  put  into 
Dunkirk,  but  to  accompany  them  in  their  pursuit  of  a 
large  English  merchantman,  whom  we  should  easily 
overtake,  and  both  together  as  easily  conquer.  Our 
captain  immediately  consented  to  this  proposition,  and 
ordered  all  his  sail  to  be  crowded.  This  was  most  unwel- 
come news  to  me  ;  however,  he  comforted  me  all  he  could 
by  assuring'  me  I  had  nothing  to  fear,  that  be  would  be 
so  far  from  offering- the  least  rudeness  to  me  himself,  that 
he  would,  at  the  hazard  of  his  life,  protect  me  from  it. 
This  assurance  g-ave  me  all  the  consolation  which  my  pres- 
ent circumstances  and  tbe  dreadful  apprehensions  I  had  on 
your  dear  account  would  admit.  (At  which  words  the 
tenderest  glances  passed  on  both  sides  between  the  hus- 
band and  wife). 

"  We  sailed  near  twelve  hours,  when  we  came  in  sight 
of  the  ship  we  were  in  pursuit  of,  and  which  we  should 
probably  have  soon  come  up  with,  bad  not  a  very  thick 
mist  ravished  her  from  our  eyes.  This  mist  continued 
several  hours,  and  when  it  cleared  up  we  discovered  our 
companion  at  a  g-reat  distance  from  us  ;  but  what  gave 
us  (I  mean  the  captain  and  bis  crew)  tbe  g-reatest  uneasi- 
ness was  the  sight  of  a  very  large  ship  within  a  mile  of 
us,  which  presently  saluted  us  with  a  g-un,  and  now 
appeared  to  be  a  third-rate  English  man-of-war.  Our 
captain  declared  tbe  impossibility  of  either  fighting-  or 
escaping,  and  accordingly  struck  without  waiting-  for  the 
broadside  which  was  preparing-  for  us,  and  which  perhaps 
would    have    prevented  me  from  the  happiness  I  now 


168  JONATHAN  WILD. 

enjoy."  This  occasioned  Heartfree  to  change  color;  his 
^vife  therefore  passed  hastily  to  circumstances  of  a  more 
smiling  complexion. 

"  I  greatly  rejoiced  at  this  event,  as  I  thought  it  would 
not  only  restore  me  to  the  safe  possession  of  my  jewels, 
but  to  what  I  value  beyond  all  the  treasures  of  the  uni- 
verse. My  expectation,  however,  of  both  these  was  some- 
what crossed  for  the  present ;  as  to  the  former,  I  was 
told  they  should  be  carefully  preserved ;  but  that  1  must 
prove  my  right  to  them  before  I  could  expect  their  restora- 
tion, which,  if  I  mistake  not,  the  captain  did  not  very 
eagerly  desire  1  should  be  able  to  accomplish ;  and  as  to 
the  latter,  I  was  acquainted  that  I  should  be  put  on  board 
the  first  ship  which  they  met  on  her  way  to  England,  but 
that  they  were  proceeding  to  the  West  Indies. 

"  I  had  not  been  long  on  board  the  man-of-war  before 
I  discovered  just  reason  rather  to  lament  than  to  rejoice 
at  the  exchange  of  my  captivity ;  for  such  I  concluded 
my  present  situation  to  be.  I  had  now  another  lover  in 
the  captain  of  this  Englishman,  and  much  rougher  and 
less  gallant  than  the  Frenchman  had  been.  He  used  me 
with  scarce  common  civility,  as  indeed  he  showed  very 
little  to  any  other  person,  treating  his  officers  little  better 
than  a  man  of  no  great  good  breeding  would  exert  to  his 
meanest  servant,  and  that  too  on  some  very  irritating 
provocation.  As  for  me,  he  addressed  me  with  the  insol- 
ence of  a  basha  to  a  Circassian  slave  ;  he  talked  to  me 
with  the  loose  license  in  which  the  most  profligate  liber- 
tines converse  wath  harlots,  and  which  women  abandoned 
only  in  a  moderate  degree  detest  and  abhor.  He  often 
kissed  me  with  very  rude  familiarity,  and  one  day 
attempted  farther  brutality;  when  a  gentleman  on 
board,  and  who  was  in  my  situation,  that  is,  had  been 
taken  by  a  privateer  and  was  retaken,  rescued  me  from 
his  hands,  for  which  the  captain  confined  him,  though  he 
was  not  under  his  command,  two  days  in  irons  ;  when  he 
was  released  (for  I  was  not  suffered  to  visit  him  in  his 


JONATHAN  WILD.  169 

confinement)  I  went  to  him  and  thanked  him  with  the 
utmost  acknowledgment  for  what  he  had  done  and  suffered 
on  my  account.  The  gentleman  behaved  to  me  in  the 
handsomest  manner  on  this  occasion ;  told  me  he  was 
ashamed  of  the  high  sense  I  seemed  to  entertain  of  so 
small  an  obligation  of  an  action  to  which  his  duty  as  a 
Christian  and  his  honor  as  a  man  obliged  him.  From 
this  time  I  lived  in  great  familiarity  with  this  man,  whom 
I  regarded  as  my  protector,  which  he  professed  himself 
ready  to  be  on  all  occasions,  expressing  the  ut- 
most abhorrence  of  the  captain's  brutality,  especially 
that  shown  towards  me,  and  the  tenderness  of  a  parent 
for  the  preservation  of  my  virtue,  for  which  I  was  not 
myself  more  solicitous  than  he  appeared.  He  was,  in- 
deed, the  only  man  I  had  hitherto  met  since  my  unhappy 
departure  who  did  not  endeavor  by  all  his  looks,  words, 
and  actions,  to  assure  me  he  had  a  liking  to  my  unfortu- 
nate person ;  the  rest  seeming  desirous  of  sacrificing  the 
little  beauty  they  complimented  to  their  desires,  without 
the  least  consideration  of  the  ruin  which  I  earnestly  repre- 
sented  to  them  they  were  attempting  to  bring  on  me  and 
on  my  future  repose. 

"  I  now  passed  several  days  pretty  free  from  the  cap- 
tain's molestation,  till  one  fatal  night."  Here,  perceiving 
Heartfree  grew  pale,  she  comforted  him  by  an  assurance 
that  Heaven  had  preserved  her  chastity,  and  again  had 
restored  her  unsullied  to  his  arms.  She  continued  thus : 
"  Perhaps  I  gave  it  a  wrong  epithet  in  the  word  fatal ; 
but  a  wretched  night  I  am  sure  I  may  call  it,  for  no 
woman  who  came  off  victorious  was,  I  believe,  ever  in 
greater  danger.  One  night  I  say,  having  drank  his  spirits 
high  with  punch,  in  company  with  the  purser,  who  was 
the  only  man  in  the  ship  he  admitted  to  his  table,  the  cap- 
tain sent  for  me  into  his  cabin ;  whither,  though  unwill- 
ingly, I  was  obliged  to  go.  We  were  no  sooner  alone 
together  than  he  seized  me  by  the  hand,  and,  after 
affronting  my  ears  with  discourse  which  I  am  unable  to 


170  JONATHAN  WILD. 

repeat,  he  swore  a  great  oath  that  his  passion  was  to  be 
dallied  with  no  longer  ;  that  I  must  not  expect  to  treat 
him  in  the  manner  to  which  a  set  of  blockhead  landmen 
submitted.  *  None  of  3'our  coquette  airs,  therefore,  with 
me,  madame,'  said  he,  'for  I  am  resolved  to  have  you 
this  night.  No  struggling  nor  squalling,  for  both  will  be 
impertinent.  The  first  man  who  offers  to  come  in  here,  I 
will  have  his  skin  flay'd  off  at  the  gangway.'  He  then 
attempted  to  pull  me  violently  towards  his  bed.  I  threw 
myself  on  my  knees,  and  with  tears  and  entreaties  be- 
sought his  compassion ;  but  this  was,  I  found,  to  no  pur- 
pose. I  then  had  recourse  to  threats,  and  endeavored  to 
frighten  him  with  the  consequence ;  but  neither  had  this, 
though  it  seemed  to  stagger  him  more  than  the  other 
method,  sufficient  force  to  deliver  me.  At  last  a  stratagem 
came  into  my  head,  of  which  my  perceiving  him  reel  gave 
me  the  first  hint ;  I  entreated  a  moment's  reprieve  only, 
w^hen,  collecting  all  the  spirits  I  could  muster,  I  put  on  a 
constrained  air  of  gaiety,  and  told  him  with  an  affected 
laugh,  he  w^as  the  roughest  lover  I  had  ever  met  with, 
and  that  I  believed  I  was  the  first  woman  he  had  ever 
paid  his  addresses  to.  'Addresses,'  said  he ;  '  d — n  your 
addresses  !  I  want  to  undress  you. '  I  then  begged  him 
to  let  us  drink  some  punch  together ;  for  that  I  loved  a 
can  as  well  as  himself,  and  never  would  grant  the 
favor  to  any  man  till  I  had  drank  a  hearty  glass  with 
him.  '  Oh  ! '  said  he,  *  if  that  be  all,  you  shall  have  punch 
enough  to  drown  yourself  in.'  At  which  words  he  rang 
the  bell,  and  ordered  in  a  gallon  of  that  liquor.  I  was  in 
the  meantime  obliged  to  suffer  his  nauseous  kisses,  and 
some  rudenesses  which  I  had  great  difficulty  to  restrain 
within  moderate  bounds.  When  the  punch  came  in  he 
took  up  the  bowl  and  drank  my  health  ostentatiously,  in 
such  a  quantity  that  considerably  advanced  my  scheme. 
I  followed  him  with  bumpers  as  fast  as  possible,  and  was 
myself  obliged  to  drink  so  much  that  at  another  time  it 
would  have  staggered  my  own  reason,  but  at  present  it 


JONATHAN  WILD,  171 

did  not  affect  me.  At  length,  perceiving-  him  very  far 
gone,  I  watched  an  opportunity,  and  ran  out  of  the  cabin, 
resolving  to  seek  protection  of  the  sea  if  I  could  find  no 
other ;  but  Heaven  was  now  graciousl3^  pleased  to  relieve 
me ;  for  in  his  attempt  to  pursue  me  he  reeled  backwards, 
and,  falling  down  the  cabin  stairs,  he  dislocated  his 
shoulder  and  so  bruised  himself  that  I  was  not  only  pre- 
served that  night  from  any  danger  of  my  intended  rav- 
isher,  but  the  accident  threw  him  into  a  fever  which 
endangered  his  life,  and  whether  he  ever  recovered  or  no 
I  am  not  certain ;  for  during  his  delirious  fits  the  eldest 
lieutenant  commanded  the  ship.  This  was  a  virtuous  and 
brave  fellow,  who  had  been  twenty-five  years  in  that  post 
without  being  able  to  obtain  a  ship,  and  had  seen  several 
boys,  the  bastards  of  noblemen,  put  over  his  head.  One 
day  while  the  ship  remained  under  his  command  an  Eng- 
lish vessel  bound  to  Cork  passed  by ;  myself  and  my 
friend,  who  had  formerly  lain  two  days  in  irons  on  my 
account,  went  on  board  this  ship  with  the  leave  of  the 
good  lieutenant,  who  made  us  such  presents  as  he  was 
able  of  provisions,  and,  congratulating  me  on  my  delivery 
from  a  danger  to  which  none  of  the  ship's  crew  had  been 
strangers,  he  kindly  wished  us  both  a  safe  voyage. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 
in  rvhich  Mrs,  Heartfree  continues  the  relation  of  her  adventures, 

"The  first  evening  after  we  were  aboard  this  vessel, 
which  was  a  brigantine,  we  being  then  at  no  very  great 
distance  from  the  Madeiras,  the  most  violent  storm  arose 
from  the  northwest,  in  which  we  presently  lost  both  our 
masts,  and  indeed  death  now  presented  itself  as  inevitable 
to  us :  I  need  not  tell  my  Tommy  what  were  then  my 
thoughts.  Our  danger  was  so  great  that  the  captain  of 
the  ship,  a  professed  atheist,  betook  himself  to  prayers,  and 


172  JONATHAN  WILD, 

the  whole  crew,  abandoning  themselves  for  lost,  fell  with 
the  utmost  eagrerness  to  the  emptying-  a  cask  of  brandy, 
not  one  drop  of  which  they  swore  should  be  polluted  with 
salt  water.  I  observed  here  my  old  friend  displaj'ed  less 
courage  than  I  expected  from  him.  He  seemed  entirely 
swallowed  up  in  despair.  But  Heaven  be  praised  !  we 
were  at  last  all  preserved.  The  storm,  after  above  eleven 
hours'  continuance,  began  to  abate,  and  by  degrees  en- 
tirely ceased,  but  left  us  still  rolling  at  the  mercy  of  the 
waves,  which  carried  us  at  their  own  pleasure  to  the 
southeast  a  vast  number  of  leagues.  Our  crew  were  all 
dead  drunk  with  the  brandy  which  they  had  taken  such 
care  to  preserve  from  the  sea ;  but,  indeed,  had  they  been 
awake,  their  labor  would  have  been  of  very  little  service, 
as  we  had  lost  all  our  rigging,  our  brigantine  being  reduced 
to  a  naked  hulk  only.  In  this  condition  we  floated  about 
thirty  hours,  till  in  the  midst  of  a  very  dark  night  we 
spied  a  light,  which,  seeming  to  approach  us,  grew  so 
large  that  our  sailors  concluded  it  to  be  the  lantern  of  a 
man-of-war,  but  when  we  were  cheering  ourselves  with 
the  hopes  of  our  deliverance  from  this  wretched  situation, 
on  a  sudden,  to  our  great  concern,  the  light  entirely  dis- 
appeared, and  left  us  in  a  despair  increased  by  the  remem- 
brance of  those  pleasing  imaginations  with  which  we  had 
entertained  our  minds  during  its  appearance.  The  rest 
of  the  night  we  passed  in  melancholy  conjectures  on  the 
light  which  had  deserted  us,  which  the  major  part  of  the 
sailors  concluded  to  be  a  meteor.  In  this  distress  we  had 
one  comfort,  which  was  a  plentiful  store  of  provision ;  this 
so  supported  the  spirits  of  the  sailors,  that  they  declared 
had  they  but  a  sufficient  quantity  of  brandy  they  cared  not 
whether  they  saw  land  for  a  month  to  come;  but  indeed 
we  were  much  nearer  it  than  we  imagined,  as  we  perceived 
at  break  of  day.  One  of  the  most  knowing  of  the  crew 
declared  we  were  near  the  continent  of  Africa ;  but  when 
we  were  within  three  leagues  of  it  a  second  violent  storm 
arose  from  the  north,  so  that  we  again  gave  over  all 


JONATHAN  WILD.  173 

hopes  of  safety.  This  storm,  was  not  quite  so  outrageous 
as  the  former,  but  of  much  longer  continuance,  for  it 
lasted  near  three  days,  and  drove  us  an  immense  number 
of  leagues  to  the  south.  We  were  withm  a  league  of  the 
shore,  expecting  every  moment  our  ship  to  be  dashed  to 
pieces,  when  the  tempest  ceased  all  on  a  sudden ;  but  the 
waves  still  continued  to  roll  like  mountains,  and  before 
the  sea  recovered  its  calm  motion  our  ship  was  thrown 
so  near  the  land  that  the  captain  ordered  out  his  boat, 
declaring  he  had  scarce  any  hopes  of  saving  her ;  and 
indeed  we  had  not  quitted  her  many  minutes  before  we 
saw  the  justice  of  his  apprehensions,  for  she  struck  against 
a  rock  and  immediately  sunk.  The  behavior  of  the  sailors 
on  this  occasion  very  much  affected  me ;  they  beheld  their 
ship  perish  with  the  tenderness  of  a  lover  or  a  parent; 
they  spoke  of  her  as  the  fondest  husband  would  of  his 
wife  ;  and  many  of  them,  who  seemed  to  have  no  tears  in 
their  composition,  shed  them  plentifully  at  her  sinking. 
The  captain  himself  cried  out,  '  Go  thy  way,  charming 
Molly,  the  sea  never  devoured  a  lovelier  morsel.  If  I 
have  fifty  vessels,  I  shall  never  love  another  like  thee. 
Poor  slut !  I  shall  remember  thee  to  vaj  dying  day.' 
"Well,  the  boat  now  conveyed  us  all  safe  to  shore,  where 
we  landed  with  very  little  difficulty.  It  was  now  about 
noon,  and  the  rays  of  the  sun,  which  descended  almost 
perpendicular  on  our  heads,  were  extremely  hot  and 
troublesome.  However,  we  traveled  through  this  ex- 
treme heat  about  five  miles  over  a  plain.  This  brought 
us  to  a  vast  wood,  which  extended  itself  as  far  as  we  could 
see  both  to  the  right  and  left,  and  seemed  to  me  to  put  an 
entire  end  to  our  progress.  Here  we  decreed  to  rest  and 
dine  on  the  provision  which  we  had  brought  from  the 
ship,  of  which  we  had  sufficient  for  very  few  meals ;  our 
boat  being  so  overloaded  with  people  that  we  had  very 
little  room  for  luggage  of  any  kind.  Our  repast  was  salt 
pork  broiled,  which  the  keenness  of  hunger  made  so  de- 
licious to  my  companions  that  they  fed  very  heartily  upon 


174  JONATHAN  WILD, 

it.  As  for  mj'self,  the  fatig-ue  of^my  bodj''  and  the  vexa- 
tion of  my  mind  liad  so  tliorou^hly  weakened  me,  that  I 
was  almost  entirely  deprived  of  appetite  ;  and  the  utmost 
dexterity  of  the  most  accomplished  French  cook  would 
have  been  inefTectual  had  he  endeavored  to  tempt  me 
with  delicacies.  I  thought  m^-self  very  little  a  g-ainer  by 
my  late  escape  from  the  tempest,  by  which  I  seemed  only 
to  have  exchanged  the  element  in  which  I  was  presently 
to  die.  When  our  company  had  sufficiently,  and  indeed 
very  plentifully,  feasted  themselves,  they  resolved  to 
enter  the  wood  and  endeavor  to  pass  it,  in  expectation  of 
finding  some  inhabitants,  at  least  some  provision.  We 
proceeded  therefore  in  the  following  order :  one  man  in 
the  front  with  a  hatchet,  to  clear  our  way,  and  two  others 
followed  him  with  guns,  to  protect  the  rest  from  wald 
beasts  ;  then  walked  the  rest  of  our  company,  and  last  of 
all  the  captain  himself,  being  armed  likewise  with  a  gun, 
to  defend  us  from  any  attack  behind — in  the  rear,  I  think 
you  call  it.  And  thus  our  whole  company,  being  four- 
teen in  number,  traveled  on  till  night  overtook  us,  without 
seeing  anything  unless  a  few  birds  and  some  very  in- 
significant animals.  We  rested  all  night  under  the  covert 
of  some  trees,  and  indeed  we  very  little  wanted  shelter  at 
that  season,  the  heat  in  the  day  being  the  only  inclemency 
we  had  to  combat  with  in  this  climate.  I  cannot  help 
telling  you  my  old  friend  lay  still  nearest  to  me  on  the 
ground,  and  declared  he  would  be  my  protector  should 
any  of  the  sailors  offer  rudeness  ;  but  I  can  acquit  them 
of  any  such  attempt ;  nor  was  I  ever  affronted  by  any 
one,  more  than  with  a  coarse  expression,  proceeding  rather 
from  the  roughness  and  ignorance  of  their  education 
than  from  any  abandoned  principle,  or  want  of  humanity. 
*'  We  had  now  proceeded  very  little  way  on  our  next 
day's  march  when  one  of  the  sailors,  having  skipped  nim- 
bly up  a  hill,  with  the  assistance  of  a  speaking  trumpet 
informed  us  that  he  saw  a  town  a  very  little  way  off. 
This  news  so  comforted  me,  and  gave  me  such  strength, 


JONATHAN  WILD.  175 

as  well  as  spirits,  that,  with  the  help  of  my  old  friend  and 
another,  who  suffered  me  to  lean  on  them,  I,  with  much 
difficulty,  attained  the  summit;  but  was  so  absolutely 
overcome  in  climbing-  it,  that  I  had  no  longer  sufficient 
strength  to  support  my  tottering  limbs,  and  was  obliged 
to  lay  myself  again  on  the  ground ;  nor  could  they  pre- 
vail on  me  to  undertake  descending  through  a  very  thick 
wood  into  a  plain,  at  the  end  of  which  indeed  appeared 
some  houses,  or  rather  huts,  but  at  a  much  greater  dis- 
tance than  the  sailor  had  assured  us ;  the  little  way,  as  he 
had  called  it,  seeming  to  me  full  twenty  miles,  nor  was  it, 
I  believe,  much  less." 


CHAPTER  IX. 

Containing  incidents  very  surprising. 

"  The  captain  declared  he  would,  without  delay,  pro- 
ceed to  the  town  before  him  ;  in  which  resolution  he  was 
seconded  by  all  the  crew  ;  but  when  I  could  not  be  per- 
suaded, nor  was  I  able  to  travel  any  farther  before  I  had 
rested  myself,  my  old  friend  protested  he  would  not  leave 
me,  but  would  stay  behind  as  my  guard ;  and,  when  I  had 
refreshed  myself  with  a  Httle  repose,  he  would  attend  me 
to  the  town,  which  the  captain  promised  he  would  not 
leave  before  he  had  seen  us. 

'*  They  were  no  sooner  departed  than  (having  first 
thanked  my  protector  for  his  care  of  me)  I  resigned  my- 
self to  sleep,  which  immediately  closed  my  eyelids,  and 
would  probably  have  detained  me  very  long  in  his  gentle 
dominion,  had  I  not  been  awaked  with  a  squeeze  by  the 
hand  of  my  guard,  which  I  at  first  thought  intended  to 
alarm  me  with  the  danger  of  some  wild  beast ;  but  I  soon 
perceived  it  arose  from  a  softer  motive,  and  that  a  gentle 
swain  was  the  only  wild  beast  I  had  to  apprehend.  He 
began  now  to  disclose  his  passion  in  the  strongest  man- 


17G  JONATHAN   WILD, 

ner  imag-inable,  indeed,  with  a  warmth  rather  beyond  that 
of  both  my  former  lovers,  but  as  yet  without  any  attempt 
of  absolute  force.  On  my  side,  remonstrances  were  made 
in  more  bitter  exclamations  and  revilings  than  I  had  used 
to  any,  that  villain  Wild  excepted.  I  told  him  he  was  the 
basest  and  most  treacherous  wretch  alive;  and  his  having 
cloaked  liis  iniquitous  designs  under  the  appearance  of  vir- 
tue and  friendship,  added  an  ineffable  degree  of  horror  to 
them  ;  that  1  detested  him  of  all  mankind  the  most ;  and 
could  I  be  brought  to  yield  to  prostitution,  he  should  be 
the  last  to  enjoy  the  ruins  of  my  honor.  He  suffered  him- 
self not  to  be  provoked  by  this  language,  but  only  changed 
his  method  of  solicitation  from  flattery  to  bribery.  He 
unripped  the  lining  of  his  waistcoat,  and  pulled  forth  sev- 
eral jewels ;  these,  he  said,  he  had  preserved  from  infinite 
danger  to  the  happiest  purpose,  if  I  could  be  won  by  them. 
I  rejected  them  often  with  the  utmost  indignation,  till  at 
last,  casting  my  eye,  rather  by  accident  than  design,  on 
a  diamond  necklace,  a  thought  like  lightning  shot  through 
my  mind,  and,  in  an  instant,  I  remembered  that  this  was 
the  very  necklace  you  had  sold  the  cursed  count,  the  cause 
of  all  our  misfortunes.  The  confusion  of  ideas  into  which 
his  surprise  hurried  me  prevented  me  reflecting  on  the 
villain  w^ho  then  stood  before  me  -,  but  the  first  recollec- 
tion presently  told  me  it  could  be  no  other  than  the  count 
himself,  the  wicked  tool  of  Wild's  barbarity.  Good  Heav- 
ens !  what  was  then  my  condition  !  How  shall  I  describe 
the  tumult  of  passions  which  then  labored  in  my  breast  ? 
However,  as  I  was  happily  unknown  to  him,  the  least 
suspicion  on  his  side  was  altogether  impossible.  He  im- 
puted, therefore,  the  eagerness  with  wiiich  I  gazed  on  the 
jewels  to  a  very  wrong  cause,  and  endeavored  to  put  as 
much  additional  softness  into  his  countenance  as  he  was 
able.  My  fears  were  a  little  quieted,  and  I  w^as  resolved 
to  be  very  liberal  of  promises,  and  hoped  so  thoroughly 
to  persuade  him  of  my  venality  that  he  might,  without 
any  doubt,  be  drawn  in  to  wait  the  captain  and  crew's  re- 


JONATHAN  WILD.  177 

turn,  who  would,  I  was  very  certain,  not  only  preserve 
me  from  his  violence,  but  secure  the  restoration  of  what 
you  had  been  so  cruelly  robbed  of.  But,  alas !  I  was  mis- 
taken." Mrs.  Heartfree,  again  perceiving  symptoms  of 
the  utmost  disquietuae  in  her  husband's  countenance, 
cried  out,  "  My  dear,  don't  jou  apprehend  any  harm — 
but,  to  deliver  you  as  soon  as  possible  from  your  anxiety 
— when  he  perceived  I  declined  the  warmth  of  his  ad- 
dresses he  begged  me  to  consider  ;  he  changed  at  once 
his  voice  and  features,  and,  in  a  very  different  tone  from 
what  he  had  hitherto  affected,  he  swore  I  should  not  de- 
ceive him  as  I  had  the  captain ;  that  fortune  had  kindly 
thrown  an  opportunity  in  his  way  which  he  was  resolved 
not  foolishly  to  lose  ;  and  concluded  with  a  violent  oath 
that  he  was  determined  to  enjoy  me  that  moment,  and 
therefore  I  knew  the  consequence  of  resistance.  He  then 
caught  me  in  his  arms,  and  began  such  rude  attempts, 
that  I  screamed  out  with  all  the  force  I  could,  though  I 
had  so  little  hope  of  being  rescued,  when  there  suddenly 
rushed  forth  from  a  thicket  a  creature,  which,  at  his  first 
appearance,  and  in  the  hurry  of  spirits  I  then  was,  I  did 
not  take  for  a  man ;  but,  indeed,  had  he  been  the  fiercest 
of  wild  beasts,  I  should  have  rejoiced  at  his  devouring  us 
both.  I  scarce  perceived  he  had  a  musket  in  his  hand  be- 
fore he  struck  my  ravisher  such  a  blow  with  it  that  he 
felled  him  at  my  feet.  He  then  advanced  with  a  gentle 
air  towards  me,  and  told  me  in  French  he  was  extremely 
glad  he  had  been  luckily  present  to  my  assistance.  He 
was  naked,  except  his  middle  and  his  feet,  if  I  can  call  a 
body  so  which  was  covered  with  hair  almost  equal  to  any 
beast  whatever.  Indeed,  his  appearance  was  so  horrid  in 
my  eyes,  that  the  friendship  he  had  shown  me,  as  well  as 
his  courteous  behavior,  could  not  entirely  remove  the 
dread  I  had  conceived  from  his  figure.  I  believe  he  saw 
this  very  visibly ;  for  he  begged  me  not  to  be  frightened, 
since,  whatever  accident  had  brought  me  thither,  I  should 
have  reason  to  thank  Heaven  for  meeting  him,  at  whose 


178  JONATHAN  WILD. 

hands  I  mig-ht  assure  myself  of  the  utmost  civility  and 
protection.  In  the  midst  of  all  this  consternation,  I  had 
spirits  enough  to  take  up  tlie  casket  of  jewels  which  the 
villain,  in  falling-,  had  dropped  out  of  his  hands,  and  con- 
veyed it  into  my  pocket.  My  deliverer,  telling  me  that  I 
seemed  extremely  weak  and  faint,  desired  me  to  refresh 
myself  at  his  little  hut,  which,  he  said,  was  hard  by.  If 
his  demeanor  had  been  less  kind  and  obliging,  my  desper- 
ate situation  must  have  lent  me  confidence ;  for  sure  the 
alternative  could  not  be  doubtful,  whether  I  should  rather 
trust  this  man,  who,  notwithstanding  his  savage  outside, 
expressed  so  much  devotion  to  serve  me,  which  at  least  I 
was  not  certain  of  the  falsehood  of,  or  should  abide  with 
one  whom  I  so  perfectly  well  knew  to  be  an  accomplished 
villain.  I  therefore  committed  myself  to  his  guidance, 
though  with  tears  in  my  eyes,  and  begged  him  to  have 
compassion  on  my  innocence,  which  was  absolutely  in  his 
power.  He  said,  the  treatment  he  had  been  witness  of, 
which  he  supposed  was  from  one  who  had  broken  his 
trust  towards  me,  sufficiently  justified  my  suspicion ;  but 
begged  me  to  dry  my  eyes,  and  he  would  soon  convince 
me  that  I  was  with  a  man  of  different  sentiments.  The 
kind  accents  which  accompanied  these  words  gave  me 
some  comfort,  which  was  assisted  by  the  re-possession  of 
our  jewels  by  an  accident  strongly  savoring  of  the  dispo- 
sition of  Providence  in  my  favor. 

'*  We  left  the  villain  weltering  in  his  blood,  though 
beginning  to  recover  a  little  motion,  and  walked  together 
to  his  hut,  or  rather  cave,  for  it  was  under  ground,  on 
the  side  of  a  hill ;  the  situation  was  very  pleasant,  and 
from  its  mouth  w^e  overlooked  a  large  plain  and  the  town 
I  had  before  seen.  As  soon  as  I  entered  it,  he  desired  me 
to  sit  down  on  a  bench  of  earth,  which  served  him  for 
chairs,  and  then  laid  before  me  some  fruits,  the  wild 
product  of  that  country,  one  or  two  of  which  had  an  ex- 
cellent flavor.  He  likewise  produced  some  baked  flesh,  a 
little  resembling  that  of  venison.     He  then  brought  forth 


He  then  acquainted  me  that  he  was  a  hermit. 

From  a  Jraiving  by  T.  Stothnril. 


178 


JONATIIAX    WILD. 


hands  I  mif?ht  assui*e  n. 
villain,  i 


utmost  civility  and 

T  1i:u] 

;:   tlie 

tid  con- 

T 


I' 


.-^tl  V  ai^i;  \.> 


me,  which  at  least  I 

i  should  abide  with 

Iw  an  nr'-'.,,,.>iished 

If   tx)   111  Mce, 

e>e8,  auU  be^'ged  him  U>  i 

< .  ..,, ,'juce,  which  was  absolutely  iu  :..  . 

{Kjwer.     He  said,  the  treatment  he  had  been  witness  of, 

which  he  supposed  was  from  one  who  had  broken  his 

trust  towards  me,  sufficiently  justified  my  suspicion ;  but 

begged  me  to  dry  my  eyes,  and  he  would  soon  convince 

I  '     as  with  a  man  of      "  ~  ts.    The 

^  which  accomp  s^ve  me 

'  t ,  which  was  assisted  by  the  re-possession  of 

'     '    '  iv  savoring-  of  the  dispo- 

i;  in   his  blood,  though 

*  ■•  •-'••■'  '-   -'ther 

on 


A*o  of  V 


^.-tuvVvVA  .V  xA  V^wn-'V  1.  «. 


me 

for 

\\ild 

1  an  ex- 

tlesh,  a 
^  !it  forth 


JONATHAN  WILD.  179 

a  bottle  of  brandy,  which  he  said  had  remained  with  him 
ever  since  his  settling-  there,  now  above  thirty  years, 
during  all  which  time  he  had  never  opened  it,  his  only 
liquor  being-  water ;  that  he  had  reserved  this  bottle  as  a 
cordial  in  sickness ;  but,  he  thanked  Heaven,  he  had 
never  yet  had  occasion  for  it.  He  then  acquainted  me 
that  he  was  a  hermit,  that  he  had  been  formerly  cast 
away  on  that  coast,  with  his  wife,  whom  he  dearly  loved, 
but  could  not  preserve  from  perishing- ;  on  which  account 
he  had  resolved  never  to  return  to  France,  which  was  his 
native  country,  but  to  devote  himself  to  prayer  and  a 
holy  life,  placing  all  his  hopes  in  the  blessed  expectation 
of  meeting-  that  dear  woman  again  in  Heaven,  where,  he 
was  convinced,  she  was  now  a  saint  and  an  interceder  for 
him.  He  said  he  had  exchanged  a  watch  with  the  king 
of  that  country,  whom  he  described  to  be  a  very  just  and 
good  man,  for  a  gun,  some  powder,  shot,  and  ball,  with 
which  he  sometimes  provided  himself  food,  but  more 
generally  used  it  in  defending  himself  against  wild  beasts ; 
so  that  his  diet  was  chiefly  of  the  vegetable  kind.  He 
told  me  many  more  circumstances,  which  I  may  relate  to 
you  hereafter  :  but,  to  be  as  concise  as  possible  at  present, 
he  at  length  greatly  comforted  me  by  promising  to  con- 
duct me  to  a  seaport,  where  I  might  have  an  oppor- 
tunity to  meet  with  some  vessels  trafficking  for  slaves ; 
and  whence  I  might  once  more  commit  myself  to  that 
element  which,  though  I  had  already  suffered  so  much 
on  it,  I  must  again  trust  to  put  me  in  possession  of  all  I 
lovea. 

*'  The  character  he  gave  me  of  the  inhabitants  of 
the  town  we  saw  below^  us,  and  of  their  king,  made 
me  desirous  of  being  conducted  thither;  especially  as 
I  very  much  wished  to  see  the  captain  and  sailors,  who 
had  behaved  very  kindly  to  me,  and  with  whom,  notwith- 
standing all  the  civil  behavior  of  the  hermit,  I  was  rather 
easier  in  my  mind  than  alone  with  this  single  man ;  but 
he  dissuaded  me  greatly  from  attempting  such  a  walk 


ISO  JONATHAN  WILD. 

till  I  had  recruited  my  spirits  with  rest,  desiring  me  to 
repose  myself  on  his  couch  or  bank,  saying  that  he  him- 
self would  retire  without  the  cave,  where  he  would  re- 
main as  my  guard.  I  accepted  this  kind  i^roposal,  but  it 
was  long  before  I  could  procure  any  slumber ;  however, 
at  length,  weariness  prevailed  over  my  fears,  and  I  en- 
joyed several  hours'  sleep.  When  I  awaked  I  found  my 
faithful  sentinel  on  his  post  and  ready  at  my  summons. 
This  behavior  infused  some  confidence  into  me,  and  I  now 
repeated  my  request  that  he  would  go  with  me  to  the 
town  below  ;  but  he  answered,  it  would  be  better  advised 
to  take  some  repast  before  I  undertook  the  journey, 
w^hich  I  should  find  much  longer  than  it  appeared.  I 
consented,  and  he  set  forth  a  greater  variety  of  fruits 
than  before,  of  which  I  ate  very  plentifully.  My  collation 
being  ended,  I  renewed  the  mention  of  my  w^alk,  but  he 
still  persisted  in  dissuading  me,  telling  me  that  I  was  not 
.yet  strong  enough ;  that  I  could  repose  mj-^self  nowhere 
with  greater  safety  than  in  his  cave ;  and  that,  for  his 
part,  he  could  have  no  greater  happiness  than  that  of  at- 
tending me,  adding,  with  a  sigh,  it  was  a  happiness  he 
should  envy  any  other  more  than  all  the  gifts  of  fortune. 
You  may  imagine  I  began  now  to  entertain  suspicions  ; 
but  he  presently  removed  all  doubt  by  throwing  himself 
at  my  feet  and  expressing  the  warmest  passion  for  me. 
I  should  have  now  sunk  with  despair  had  he  not  accom- 
panied these  professions  w'ith  the  most  vehement  protest- 
ations that  he  would  never  offer  me  any  other  force  but 
that  of  entreaty,  and  that  he  would  rather  die  the  most 
cruel  death  by  my  coldness  than  gain  the  highest  bliss  by 
becoming  the  occasion  of  a  tear  of  sorrow  to  these  bright 
eyes,  which  he  said  were  stars,  under  whose  benign  in- 
fluence alone  he  could  enjo}'',  or  indeed  suffer  life."  She 
was  repeating  many  more  compUments  he  made  her, 
when  a  horrid  uproar,  which  alarmed  the  whole  gate,  put 
a  stop  to  her  narration  at  present.  It  is  impossible  for 
me  to  give  the  reader  a  better  idea  of  the  noise  which 


JONATHAN  WILD.  181 

now  arose  than  by  desiring-  him  to  imagine  I  had  the 
hundred  tongues  the  poet  once  wished  for,  and  was 
vociferating  from  them  all  at  once,  by  holloing,  scolding, 
crying,  swearing,  bellowing,  and,  in  short,  by  every  dif- 
ferent articulation  which  is  within  the  scope  of  the  human 
organ. 


CHAPTER    X. 

A  horrible  uproar  in  the  Gate. 

But  however  great  an  idea  the  reader  may  hence  con- 
ceive of  this  uproar,  he  will  think  the  occasion  more  than 
adequate  to  it  when  he  is  informed  that  our  hero  (I  blush 
to  name  it)  had  discovered  an  injury  done  to  his  honor, 
and  that  in  the  tenderest  point.  In  a  word,  reader  (for 
thou  must  know  it,  though  it  give  thee  the  greatest 
horror  imaginable),  he  had  caught  Fireblood  in  the  arms 
of  his  lovely  Lsstitia. 

As  the  generous  bull  who,  having  long  depastured 
among'  a  number  of  cows,  and  thence  contracted  an 
opinion  that  these  cows  are  all  his  own  property,  if  he 
beholds  another  bull  bestride  a  cow  within  his  walks,  he 
roars  aloud,  and  threatens  instant  vengeance  with  his 
horns,  till  the  whole  parish  are  alarmed  with  his  bellow- 
ing ;  not  with  less  noise  nor  less  dreadful  menaces  did  the 
fury  of  Wild  burst  forth  and  terrify  the  whole  gate. 
Long-  time  did  rage  render  his  voice  inarticulate  to  the 
hearer ;  as  when,  at  a  visiting  day,  fifteen  or  sixteen  or 
perhaps  twice  as  many  females,  of  delicate  but  shrill 
pipes,  ejaculate  all  at  once  on  different  subjects,  all  is 
sound  only,  the  harmony  entirely  melodious  indeed,  but 
conveys  no  idea  to  our  ears ;  but  at  length,  when  reason 
began  to  get  the  better  of  his  passion,  which  latter,  being' 
deserted  by  his  breath,  began  a  little  to  retreat,  the  fol- 
lowing- accents  leapt  over  the  hedge  of  his  teeth,  or  rather 
the  ditch  of  his  gums,  whence  those  hedgestakes  had  long 


ISO  JONATHAN  WILD. 

since  b}'  a  patten  been  displaced  in  battle  with  an  amazon 
of  Drury. 

* — "  Man  of  honor  I  doth  this  become  a  friend  ?  Could 
I  have  expected  such  a  breach  of  all  the  laws  of  honor 
from  thee,  whom  I  had  taught  to  walk  in  its  paths  ? 
Hadst  thou  chosen  any  other  way  to  injure  my  confidence 
I  could  have  forgiven  it ;  but  this  is  a  stab  in  the  tender- 
est  part,  a  wound  never  to  be  healed,  an  injury  never  to 
be  repaired ;  for  it  is  not  onlj'  the  loss  of  an  agreeable 
companion,  of  the  affection  of  a  wife  dearer  to  my  soul 
than  life  itself,  it  is  not  this  loss  alone  I  lament;  this  loss 
is  accompanied  with  disgrace  and  with  dishonor.  The 
blood  of  the  Wilds,  which  hath  run  with  such  uninter- 
rupted purity  through  so  many  generations,  this  blood  is 
fouled,  is  contaminated:  hence  flow  my  tears,  hence  arises 
my  grief.     This  is  the  injury  never  to  be  redressed,  nor 

ever  to  be  with  honor  forgiven." — "  M in  a  bandboxl  " 

answered  Fireblood ;  "  here  is  a  noise  about  your  honor  I 
If  the  mischief  done  to  your  blood  be  all  you  complain  of, 
I  am  sure  you  complain  of  nothing ;  for  my  blood  is  as 
good  as  yours." — "You  have  no  conception,"  replied 
Wild,  "  of  the  tenderness  of  honor;  you  know  not  how 
nice  and  delicate  it  is  in  both  sexes ;  so  delicate  that  the 
least  breath  of  air  which  rudely  blows  on  it  destroys  it." — 
"I  will  prove  from  your  ow^n  words,"  says  Fireblood,  " I 
have  not  wronged  your  honor.  Have  you  not  often  told 
me  that  the  honor  of  a  man  consisted  in  receiving  no 
affront  from  his  own  sex,  and  that  of  woman  in  receiving 
no  kindness  from  ours  ?  Now  sir,  if  I  have  given  you  no 
affront,  how  have  I  injured  your  honor?" — "But  doth 
not  everything,"  cried  Wild,  "  of  the  wife  belong  to  the 
husband  ?  A  married  man,  therefore,  hath  his  wife's 
honor  as  well  as  his  own,  and  by  injuring  hers  you  injure 
his.  How  cruelly  3'ou  have  hurt  me  in  this  tender  part  I 
need  not  repeat ;  the  whole  gate  loiows  it,  and  the  world 
shall.     I  will  apply  to  Doctors'  Commons  for  my  redress 

♦  The  beginning'  of  tiiis  speech  is  lost. 


JONATHAN  WILD.  183 

against  her ;  I  will  shake  off  as  much  of  my  dishonor  as  I 
can  \)Y  parting  with  her ;  and  as  for  you,  expect  to  hear 
of  me  in  Westminster-hall ;  the  modern  method  of  repair- 
ing these  breaches  and  resenting  this  affront." — ''D — n 
your  eyes  ?  "  cries  Fireblood;  "  I  fear  you  not,  nor]do  I  be- 
lieve a  word  you  say." — ''  Nay,  if  you  affront  me  person- 
ally, "says  Wild '  'an  other  sort  of  resentment  is  prescribed. '  * 
At  which  word,  advancing  to  Fireblood,  he  presented 
him  with  a  box  on  the  ear,  which  the  youth  immediately 
returned ;  and  now  our  hero  and  his  friend  fell  to  boxing, 
though  with  some  difficulty,  both  being  encumbered  with 
the  chains  which  t\i.ej  wore  between  their  legs:  a  few 
blows  passed  on  both  sides  before  the  gentlemen  who 
stood  by  stepped  in  and  parted  the  combatants ;  and  now, 
both  parties  having  whispered  each  other,  that,  if  they 
outlived  the  ensuing  sessions  and  escaped  the  tree,  one 
should  give  and  the  other  should  receive  satisfaction  in 
single  combat,  they  separated  and  the  gate  soon  recov- 
ered its  former  tranquility. 

Mrs.  Heartfree  was  then  desired  by  the  justice  and  her 
husband  both,  to  conclude  her  story,  which  she  did  in 
the  words  of  the  next  chapter. 


CHAPTER  XI. 

The  conclusion  of  Mrs.  Heartfree's  adventures. 

"  If  I  mistake  not,  I  was  interrupted  just  as  I  was  be- 
ginning to  repeat  some  of  the  compliments  made  me  by 
the  hermit." — "  Just  as  you  had  finished  them,  I  believe, 
madam,"  said  the  justice.— "Very  well,  sir,"  said  she; 
"I  am  sure  I  have  no  pleasure  in  the  repetition.  He 
concluded  then  with  telling  me,  though  I  was  in  his  eyes 
the  most  charming  woman  in  the  world,  and  might  tempt 
a  saint  to  abandon  the  ways  of  holiness,  yet  my  beauty 
inspired  him  with  a  much  tenderer  affection  towards  me 


184  JONATHAN  WILD. 

than  to  purchase  any  satisfaction  of  his  own  desires  with 
my  misery;  if  therefore  I  could  be  so  cruel  to  him  to  re- 
ject his  honest  and  sincere  address,  nor  could  submit  to  a 
solitary  life  with  one  who  would  endeavor  by  all  possi- 
ble means  to  make  me  happy,  I  had  no  force  to  dread  ; 
for  that  I  was  as  much  at  my  liberty  as  if  I  was  in 
France,  or  England,  or  any  other  free  country.  I  repulsed 
him  with  the  same  civility  with  which  he  advanced  ;  and 
told  him  that,  as  he  professed  g-reat  regard  to  religion,  I 
was  convinced  he  would  cease  from  all  farther  solicita- 
tion when  I  informed  him  that,  if  I  had  no  other  objec- 
tion, my  own  innocence  would  not  admit  of  my  hearmg 
him  on  this  subject,  for  that  I  was  married.  He  started 
a  little  at  that  word,  and  was  for  some  time  silent ;  but, 
at  length  recovering  himself,  he  began  to  urge  the  uncer- 
tainty of  my  husband's  being  alive,  and  the  probability 
of  the  contrary.  He  then  spoke  of  marriage  as  of  a  civil 
policy  only,  on  which  head  he  urged  many  arguments 
not  worth  repeating,  and  was  growing  so  very  eager  and 
importunate  that  1  know  not  whither  his  passion  might 
have  hurried  him  had  not  three  of  the  sailors,  well  armed, 
appeared  at  that  instant  in  sight  of  the  cave.  I  no 
sooner  saw  them  than,  exulting  with  the  utmost  inward 
jo}"^,  I  told  him  m^^  companions  were  come  for  me,  and 
that  I  must  now  take  my  leave  of  him ;  assuring  him  that 
I  would  always  remember,  with  the  most  grateful  ac- 
knowledgment, the  favors  I  had  received  at  his  hands. 
He  fetched  a  very  heavy  sigh,  and,  squeezing  me  tenderly 
by  the  hand,  he  saluted  my  lips  with  a  little  more  eager- 
ness than  the  European  salutations  admit  of,  and  told  me 
he  should  likewise  remember  my  arrival  at  his  cave  to 
the  last  day  of  his  hfe,  adding,  O  that  he  could  there 
spend  the  whole  in  the  company  of  one  whose  bright  eyes 
had  kindled — but  I  know  you  will  think,  sir,  that  we  wo- 
men love  to  repeat  the  compliments  made  us,  I  will  there- 
fore omit  them.  In  a  word,  the  sailors  being  now  ar- 
rived, I  quitted  him  with  some  compassion  for  the  reluct- 


JONATHAN  WILD.  185 

ance  with  which  he  parted  from  me,  and  went  forward 
with  my  companions. 

"  We  had  proceeded  but  a  very  few  paces  before  one  of 
the  sailors  said  to  his  comrades,  '  D — n  me,  Jack,  who 
knows  whether  yon  fellow  hath  not  some  good  flip  in  his 
cave  ?"  I  innocently  answered,  the  poor  wretch  had 
only  one  bottle  of  brandy.  '  Hath  he  so  ?'  cries  the  sailor ; 
'  'Fore  George,  we  will  taste  it;'  and  so  saying-  they  im- 
mediately returned  back,  and  myself  with  them.  We 
found  the  poor  man  prostrate  on  the  ground,  expressing 
all  the  symptoms  of  misery  and  lamentation.  I  told  him 
in  French  (for  the  sailors  could  not  speak  that  language) 
what  they  wanted.  He  pointed  to  the  place  where  the 
bottle  was  deposited,  saying  they  were  welcome  to  that 
and  whatever  else  he  had,  and  added  he  cared  not  if  they 
took  his  life  also.  The  sailors  searched  the  whole  cave, 
where  findmg  nothing  more  which  they  deemed  worth 
their  taking,  they  walked  off  with  the  bottle,  and,  im- 
mediately emptying  it  without  offering  me  a  drop,  the^^ 
proceeded  with  me  towards  the  town. 

"  In  our  way  I  observed  one  whisper  another,  while  he 
kept  his  eye  steadfastly  fixed  on  me.  This  gave  me  some 
uneasiness  ;  but  the  other  answered,  '  No,  d — n  me,  the 
captain  will  never  forgive  us  :  besides,  we  have  enough  of 
it  among  the  black  women,  and,  in  my  mind,  one  color  is 
as  good  as  another.  This  was  enough  to  give  me  violent 
apprehensions  ;  but  I  heard  no  more  of  that  kind  till  we 
came  to  the  town,  where,  in  about  six  hours,  I  arrived  in 
safety. 

**  As  soon  as  I  came  to  the  captain  he  inquired  what 
was  become  of  my  friend,  meaning  the  villainous  count. 
When  he  was  informed  by  me  of  what  had  happened,  he 
wished  me  heartily  joy  of  my  delivery,  and,  expressing 
the  utmost  abhorrence  of  such  baseness,  swore  if  ever 
he  met  him  he  would  cut  his  throat ;  but,  indeed,  we  both 
concluded  that  he  had  died  of  the  blow  which  the  hermit 
had  given  him. 


186  JONATHAN  WILD. 

"  I  was  now  introduced  to  the  chief  magistrate  of  this 
countr}',  who  was  desirous  of  seeing-  me.  I  will  give  you 
a  short  description  of  him.  He  was  chosen  (as  is  the  cus- 
tom there)  for  his  superior  bravery  and  wisdom.  His 
power  is  entirely  absolute  during  his  continuance ;  but, 
on  the  first  deviation  from  equity  and  justice,  he  is  liable 
to  be  deposed  and  punished  by  the  people,  the  elders  of 
whom,  once  a  year,  assemble  to  examine  into  his  conduct. 
Besides  the  danger  which  these  examinations,  which  are 
very  strict,  expose  him  to,  his  office  is  of  such  care  and 
trouble  that  nothing  but  that  restless  love  of  power  so 
predominant  in  the  mind  of  man  could  make  it  the  object 
of  desire,  for  he  is  indeed  the  only  slave  of  all  the  natives 
of  this  country.  He  is  obliged,  in  time  of  peace,  to  hear 
the  complaint  of  every  person  in  his  dominions,  and  to 
render  him  justice  ;  for  which  purpose  everyone  may  de- 
mand an  audience  of  him,  unless  during  the  hour  which 
he  is  allowed  for  dinner,  when  he  sits  alone  at  the  table, 
and  is  attended  in  the  most  public  manner  with  more 
than  European  ceremony.  This  is  done  to  create  an  awe 
and  respect  towards  him  in  the  eye  of  the  vulgar ;  but 
lest  it  should  elevate  him  too  much  in  his  own  opinion,  in 
order  to  his  humiliation  he  receives  every  evening  in  pri- 
vate, from  a  kind  of  beadle,  a  gentle  kick  on  his  posteriors ; 
besides  w-hich  he  w^ears  a  ring  in  his  nose  somewhat  re- 
sembling that  we  ring  our  pigs  wath,  and  a  chain  round 
his  neck  not  unlike  that  worn  by  our  aldermen ;  both 
which  I  suppose  to  be  emblematical,  but  heard  not|the 
reasons  of  either  assigned.  There  are  many  more  par- 
ticularities among  these  people  which,  when  I  have  an 
opportunity,  I  may  relate  to  you.  The  second  day  after 
my  return  from  court  one  of  his  officers,  whom  they  call 
ScHACH  Pi.MPACH,  waited  upon  me,  and,  b^"  a  French  in- 
terpreter who  lives  here,  informed  me  that  the  chief  mag- 
istrate liked  m}'  person,  and  offered  me  an  immense 
present  if  I  would  suffer  him  to  enjoy  it  (this  is,  it  seems, 
their  common  form  of  making  love).     I  rejected  the  pres- 


JONATHAN  WILD.  187 

ent,  and  never  heard  any  further  sohcitation  ;  for.  as  it  is 
no  shame  for  women  here  to  consent  at  the  first  proposal, 
so  they  never  receive  a  second. 

"  I  had  resided  in  tliis  town  a  week  when  the  captain 
informed  me  that  a  number  of  slaves,  who  had  been  taken 
captives  in  war,  were  to  be  guarded  to  the  seaside,  where 
they  were  to  be  sold  to  the  merchants  who  traded  in  them 
to  America  ;  that  if  I  would  embrace  this  opportunity  I 
might  assure  myself  of  finding  a  passage  to  America, 
and  thence  to  England  ;  acquainting  me  at  the  same  time 
that  he  himself  intended  to  go  with  them.  I  readily  agreed 
to  accompany  him.  The  chief,  being  advised  of  our 
designs,  sent  for  us  both  to  court,  and,  without  mention- 
ing one  word  of  love  to  me,  having  presented  me  with  a 
very  rich  jewel,  of  less  value,  he  said,  than  my  chastity, 
took  a  very  civil  leave,  recommending  me  to  the  care  of 
Heaven,  and  ordering  us  a  large  supply  of  provisions  for 
our  journey. 

"We  were  provided  with  mules  for  ourselves  and  what 
we  carried  with  us,  and  in  ninedaya  reached  the  seashore, 
where  we  found  an  English  vessel  ready  to  receive  both 
us  and  the  slaves.  We  went  aboard  it,  and  sailed  the 
next  dduj  with  a  fair  wind  for  New  England,  where  I 
hoped  to  get  an  immediate  passage  to  the  Old  :  but  Prov- 
idence was  kinder  than  my  expectation ;  for  the  third  day 
after  we  were  at  sea  we  met  an  English  man-of-war 
homeward  bound ;  the  captain  of  it  was  a  very  good- 
natured  man,  and  agreed  to  take  me  on  board.  I  accord- 
ingly took  my  leave  of  my  old  friend,  the  master  of  the 
shipwrecked  vessel,  who  went  on  to  New  England,  whence 
he  intended  to  pass  to  Jamaica,  where  his  owners  lived. 
I  was  now  treated  with  great  civility,  had  a  little  cabin 
assigned  me,  and  dined  every  day  at  the  captain's  table, 
who  was  indeed  a  very  gallant  man,  and,  at  first,  made 
me  a  tender  of  his  affections  ;  but,  when  he  found  me 
resolutely  bent  to  preserve  myself  pure  and  entire  for  the 
best  of  husbands,  he  grew  cooler  in  his  addresses,  and 


188  JONATHAN  WILD. 

soon  behaved  in  a  manner  very  pleasing  to  me,  regarding 
my  sex  only  so  far  as  to  pay  me  a  deference,  which  is 
very  agreeable  to  us  all. 

"  To  conclude  my  story^:  I  met  with  no  adventure  in 
this  passage  at  all  worth  relating  till  my  landing  at 
Gravesend,  whence  the  captain  brought  me  in  his  own 
boat  to  the  tower.  In  a  short  hour  after  my  arrival  we 
had  that  meeting  which,  however  dreadful  at  first,  will, 
I  now  hope,  by  the  good  offices  of  the  best  of  men,  whom 
Heaven  forever  bless,  end  in  our  perfect  happiness,  and 
be  a  strong  instance  of  what  I  am  persuaded  is  the  surest 

truth,  THAT  PROVIDENCE  WILL  SOONER  OR  LATER  PROCURE 
THE  FELICITY  OF  THE  VIRTUOUS  AND  INNOCENT. 

Mrs.  Heartfree  thus  ended  her  speech,  having  before 
delivered  to  her  husband  the  jewels  which  the  count  had 
robbed  him  of,  and  that  presented  her  by  the  African 
chief,  which  last  was  of  immense  value.  The  good 
magistrate  was  sensibly  touched  at  her  narrative,  as  well 
on  the  consideration  of  the  sufferings  she  had  herself 
undergone  as  for  those  of  her  husband,  which  he  had  him- 
self been  innocently  the  instrument  of  bringing  upon  him. 
That  worthy  man,  however,  much  rejoiced  in  what  he  had 
already  done  for  his  preservation,  and  promised  to  labor 
■v\ith  his  utmost  interest  and  industry  to  procure  the  abso- 
lute pardon,  rather  of  his  sentence  than  of  his  guilt, 
which  he  now  plainly  discovered  was  a  barbarous  and 
false  imputation. 


CHAPTER  XII. 
The  history  returns  to  the  contemplation  of  greatness. 
But  w3  have  already,  perhaps,  detained  our  reader  too 
long  in  this  relation  from  the  consideration  of  our  hero, 
who  daily  gave  the  most  exalted  proofs  of  greatness  in 
cajoling  the  prz'gs,  and  in  exactions  on  the  debtors  ;  which 
latter  now  grew  so  great,  i.e.,  corrupted  in  their  morals. 


JONATHAN  WILD.  189 

that  they  spoke  with  the  utmost  contempt  of  -what  the 
vulgar  call  honesty.  The  greatest  character  among  them 
was  that  of  a  pickpocket,  or,  in  truer  language,  a  file  ; 
and  the  only  censure  was  want  of  dexterity.  As  to  vir- 
tue, goodness,  and  such  like,  they  were  the  objects  of 
mirth  and  derision,  and  all  Newgate  was  a  complete  col- 
lection of  prigs,  every  man  being  desirous  to  pick  his 
neighbor's  pocket,  and  every  one  was  as  sensible  that  his 
neighbor  was  as  ready  to  pick  his ;  so  that  (which  is 
almost  incredible)  as  great  roguery  daily  was  committed 
within  the  walls  of  Newgate  as  without. 

The  glory  resulting  from  these  actions  of  Wild  prob- 
ably animated  the  envy  of  his  enemies  against  him.  The 
day  of  his  trial  now  approached  ;  for  which,  as  Socrates 
did,  he  prepared  himself  ;  but  not  weakly  and  foolishly, 
like  that  philosopher,  with  patience  and  resignation,  but 
with  a  good  number  of  false  witnesses.  However,  as 
success  is  not  always  proportioned  to  the  wisdom  of  him 
who  endeavors  to  attain  it,  so  are  we  more  sorry  than 
ashamed  to  relate  that  our  hero  was,  notwithstanding  his 
utmost  caution  and  prudence,  convicted,  and  sentenced  to 
a  death  which,  when  we  consider  not  only  the  great  men 
who  have  suffered  it,  but  the  much  larger  number  of 
those  whose  highest  honor  it  hath  been  to  merit  it,  we 
cannot  call  otherwise  than  honorable.  Indeed  those 
who  have  unluckily  missed  it  seem  all  their  days  to  have 
labored  in  vain  to  attain  an  end  which  Fortune,  for  rea- 
sons only  known  to  herself,  hath  thought  proper  to  deny 
them.  Without  any  farther  preface  then,  our  hero  was 
sentenced  to  be  hanged  by  the  neck:  but,  whatever  was 
to  be  now  his  fate,  he  might  console  himself  that  he  had 
perpetrated  what 

Nee  Judicis  ira,  nee  ignis, 

Nee  poterit  f  errum,  nee  edax  aboiere  vetustas. 

For  my  own  part,  I  confess,  I  look  on  this  death  of  hang- 
ing to  be  as  proper  for  a  hero  as  any  other ;  and  I 
solemnly  declare  that  had  Alexander  the  Great  been 


190  JONATHAN  WILD. 

hanged  it  would  not  in  the  least  have  diminished  my  re- 
spect to  his  memory.  Provided  a  liero  in  his  life  doth 
but  execute  a  sulhcient  quantity  of  nuschief ;  provided  he 
be  but  well  and  heartily  cursed  by  the  widow,  the  orphan, 
the  poor,  and  the  oppressed  (the  sole  rewards,  as  many 
authors  have  bitterly  lamented  both  in  prose  and  verse, 
of  greatness,  i.e.  priggism),  I  think  it  avails  little  of 
what  nature  his  death  be,  whether  it  be  by  the  axe,  the 
halter,  or  the  sword.  Such  names  will  be  always  sure  of 
living  to  posterit^^  and  of  enjoying  that  fame  which  they 
so  gloriously  and  eagerly  coveted ;  for  according  to  a 
GEEAT  dramatic  poet. 

Fame 
Not  more  survives  from  good  than  evil  deeds. 
Th'  aspiring  youth  that  fired  Ephesian  dome 
Outlives  in  fame  the  pious  fool  who  rais'd  it. 

Our  hero  now  suspected  that  the  malice  of  his  enemies 
would  overpower  him.  He  therefore  betook  himself  to 
that  true  support  of  greatness  in  affliction,  a  bottle ;  by 
means  of  which  he  was  enabled  to  curse,  swear  and  bully 
and  brave  his  fate.  Other  comfort  indeed  he  had  not 
much,  for  not  a  single  friend  ever  came  near  him.  His 
wife,  whose  trial  was  deferred  to  the  next  sessions,  visited 
him  but  once,  when  she  plagued,  tormented,  and  up- 
braided him  so  cruelly,  that  he  forbade  the  keeper  ever 
to  admit  her  again.  The  ordinary  of  Newgate  had  fre- 
quent conferences  with  him,  and  greatly  would  it  em- 
bellish our  history  could  we  record  all  which  that  good 
man  delivered  on  these  occasions;  but  unhappily  we 
could  procure  only  the  substance  of  a  single  conference, 
which  was  taken  down  in  shorthand  by  one  who  over- 
heard it.  We  shall  transcribe  it,  therefore,  exactly  in 
the  same  form  and  words  we  received  it ;  nor  can  we 
help  regarding  it  as  one  of  the  most  curious  pieces  which 
either  ancient  or  modern  history  hath  recorded. 


JONATHAN  WILD.  191 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

A  dialogue,  between  the  ordinary  of  Newgate  and  Mr.  Jonathan 
Wild  the  Great ;  in  which  the  subjects  of  death,  immortality, 
and  other  grave  matters,  are  very  learnedly  handled  by  the 
former. 

Ordinary.  Good  morrow  to  you,  sir ;  I  hope  you  rested 
well  last  night. 

Jonathan.  D — n'd  ill ;  sir.  I  dreamt  so  confoundedly 
of  hanging-,  that  it  disturbed  my  sleep. 

Ordinary.  Fie  upon  it !  You  should  be  more  resigned. 
I  wish  you  would  make  a  little  better  use  of  those  instruc- 
tions which  I  have  endeavored  to  inculcate  into  you,  and 
particularly  last  Sunday,  and  from  these  words  :  Those 
who  do  evil  shall  go  into  everlasting  Jire^  prepared  for 
the  devil  and  his  angels.  I  undertook  to  show  you, 
first,  what  is  meant  by  everlasting  fire  ;  and,  sec- 
ondly, who  were  the  devil,  and  his  angels.  I  then 
proceeded  to  draw  some  inferences  from  the  whole*;  in 
which  I  am  mightily  deceived  if  I  did  not  convince  you 
that  you  yourself  was  one  of  those  angels,  and,  conse- 
quently, must  expect  everlasting  fire  to  be  your  por- 
tion in  the  other  world. 

Jonathan.  Faith,  doctor,  I  remember  very  little  of 
your  inferences  ]  for  I  fell  asleep  soon  after  your  naming 
the  text.  But  did  you  preach  this  doctrine  then,  or  do 
you  repeat  it  now  in  order  to  comfort  me  ? 

Ordinary.  I  do  it  in  order  to  bring  you  to  a  true  sense 
of  your  manifold  sins,  and  by  that  means,  to  induce  you 
to  repentance.  Indeed,  had  I  the  eloquence  of  Cicero,  or 
of  Tully,  it  would  not  be  sufficient  to  describe  the  pains 
of  hell  or  the  joys  of  heaven.  The  utmost  that  we  are 
taught  is,  that  ear  hath  not  heard,  nor  can  heart  con- 
ceive. Who  then  would,  for  the  pitiful  consideration  of 
the  riches  and  pleasures  of  this  world,  forfeit  such  inesti- 

*  He  pronounced  this  word  HULL,  and  perhaps  would  have  spelt  it  so. 


192  JONATHAN  WILD. 

mable  happiness !  such  joys !  such  pleasures !  such 
deUghts  ?  Or  who  would  run  the  venture  of  such  misery, 
which,  but  to  think  on,  shocks  the  human  understanding  ? 
Who,  in  his  senses,  then,  would  prefer  the  latter  to  the 
former  ? 

Jonathan.  Ay,  who  indeed  ?  I  assure  you,  doctor,  I 
had  much  rather  be  happy  than  miserable.     Butf 

Ordinary.  Nothing  can  be  plainer.  St.  *  *  * 

«  *  *  «  *  * 

Jonathan.  *  *  *  *        If  once  con- 

vinced *  *  *  *  *        no  man    * 

*  lives  of  *****  * 

*  *    whereas  sure  the  clergj^  *  *      opportunity 

*  '        better  informed  *  *  *  « 

*  all  manner  of  vice    *  *  * 

OrfZmar?/.  *  are*  atheist*         *    deist  *  ari  **  cinian 

*  hanged  *  *  burnt  *  '^  oiled  *  oasted.*  *  *  dev  *  *  his  an  *  ' 

*  ell  fire  *  *  ternal  da  *  *  tion. 

Jonathan.  You  *  *  '  to  frighten  me  out  of  my  wits.  But 
the  good  *  *  *  is,  I  doubt  not,  more  merciful  than  his  wick- 
ed *  *  If  I  should  believe  all  you  say,  I  am  sure  I  should 
die  in  inexpressible  horror. 

Ordinary.  Despair  is  sinful.  You  should  place  your 
hopes  in  repentance  and  grace ;  and  though  it  is  most  true 
that  you  are  in  danger  of  the  judgment,  yet  there  is  still 
room  for  mercy ;  and  no  man,  unless  excommunicated,  is 
absolutely  without  hopes  of  a  reprieve. 

Jonathan.  I  am  not  without  hopes  of  a  reprieve  from 
the  cheat  yet.  I  have  pretty  good  interest ;  but,  if  I  can- 
not obtain  it,  you  shall  not  frighten  me  out  of  my  cour- 
age. I  will  not  die  like  a  pimp.  D — n  me,  what  is  death  ? 
It  is  nothing  but  to  be  with  Platos  and  with  Cassars,  as 

the  poet  says,  and  all  the  other  great  heroes  of  antiquity. 
***»**• 

Ordinary.  Ay,  all  this  is  very  true  ;  but  hfe  is  sweet 

t  This  part  so  blotted  that  it  was  illegible. 


JONATHAN  WILD.  193 

for  all  that ;  and  I  had  rather  live  to  eternity  than  go 
into  the  company  of  any  such  heathens,  who  are,  I  doubt 
not,  in  hell  with  the  devil  and  his  ang-els,  and,  as  little 
as  you  seem  to  apprehend  it,  you  may  find  yourself  there 
before  you  expect  it.  Where,  then,  will  be  your  taunt- 
ings  and  your  vauntings,  your  boastings  and  3-our  brag- 
gings ?  You  will  then  be  ready  to  give  more  for  a  drop 
of  water  than  you  ever  gave  for  a  bottle  of  wine, 

Jonathan.  Faith,  doctor  !  well  minded.  What  say  you 
to  a  bottle  of  wine  ? 

Ordinary,  I  will  drink  no  wine  with  an  atheist.  I 
should  expect  the  devil  to  make  a  third  in  such  company ; 
for,  since  he  knows  you  are  his,  he  may  be  impatient  to 
have  his  due. 

Jonathan.  It  is  your  business  to  drink  with  the  wicked, 
in  order  to  amend  them. 

Ordinary.  I  despair  of  it ;  and  so  I  consign  you  over  to 
the  devil,  who  is  ready  to  receive  you. 

Jonathan.  You  are  more  unmerciful  to  me  than  the 
judge,  doctor.  He  recommended  my  soul  to  heaven; 
and  it  is  your  ofGLce  to  show  me  the  way  thither. 

Ordinary.  No;  the  gates  are  barred  against  all  revilers 
of  the  clergy. 

Jonathan.  I  revile  only  the  wicked  ones,  if  any  such 
are,  which  cannot  affect  you  ;  who,  if  men  were  preferred 
in  the  church  by  merit  only,  would  have  long  since  been 
a  bishop.  Indeed,  it  might  raise  any  good  man's  mdig- 
nation  to  observe  one  of  your  vast  learning  and  abilities 
obliged  to  exert  them  in  so  low  a  sphere,  when  so  many 
of  your  inferiors  wallow  in  wealth  and  preferment. 

Ordinary.  Why,  it  must  be  confessed  that  there  are 
bad  men  in  all  orders ;  but  you  should  not  censure  too 
generally.  I  must  own  I  might  have  expected  higher 
promotion ;  but  I  have  learnt  patience  and  resignation ; 
and  I  would  advise  you  to  the  same  temper  of  mind ; 
which,  if  you  can  attain,  I  know  you  will  find  mercy. 
Nay,  I  do  now  promise  you  you  will.     It  is  true  you  are  a 


194  JONATHAN  WILD, 

sinner  ;  but  your  crimes  are  not  of  the  blackest  dye  :  you 
are  no  murderer,  nor  gruilty  of  sacrilege.  And,  if  you  are 
guiity  of  theft,  you  make  some  atonement  by  sufTering- 
for  it,  which  many  others  do  not.  Happy  it  is  indeed  for 
those  few  who  are  detected  in  their  sins,  and  brought  to 
exemplary  punishment  for  them  in  this  world.  So  far, 
therefore,  from  repining  at  your  fate  when  you  come  to 
the  tree,  you  should  exult  and  rejoice  in  it ;  and,  to  say 
the  truth,  I  question  whether,  to  a  wise  man,  the  catas- 
trophe of  many  of  those  who  die  by  a  halter  is  not 
more  to  be  envied  than  pitied.  Nothing  is  so  sinful  as 
sin,  and  murder  is  the  greatest  of  all  sins.  It  follows 
that  whoever  commits  murder  is  happy  in  suffering  for 
it.  If,  therefore,  a  man  who  commits  murder  is  so  happy 
in  dying  for  it,  how  much  better  must  it  be  for  you,  who 
have  committed  a  less  crime  ! 

Jonathan.  All  this  is  very  true;  but  let  us  take  a  bot- 
tle of  wine  to  cheer  our  spirits. 

Ordinary.  Wh}'  wine?  Let  me  tell  you,  Mr.  Wild, 
there  is  nothing  so  deceitful  as  the  spirits  given  us  by 
wine.  If  you  must  drink,  let  us  have  a  bowl  of  punch — a 
liquor  I  the  rather  prefer,  as  it  is  nowhere  spoken  against 
in  scripture,  and  as  it  is  more  wholesome  for  the  gravel, 
a  distemper  with  which  I  am  grievously  afflicted. 

Jonathan  {having  called  for  a  hoiol).  I  ask  your  par- 
don, doctor  ;  I  should  have  remembered  that  punch  was 
your  favorite  liquor,  I  think  you  never  taste  wine  while 
there  is  any  punch  remaining  on  the  table. 

Ordinary.  I  confess  I  look  on  punch  to  be  the  more 
eligible  liquor,  as  well  for  the  reasons  I  have  before  men- 
tioned as  likewise  for  one  other  cause,  it  is  the  properest 
for  a  DRAUGHT.  I  own  I  took  it  a  little  unkind  of  you  to 
mention  wine,  thinking  you  knew  my  palate. 

Jonathan.  You  are  in  the  right;  and  I  will  take  a 
swingeing  cup  to  your  being  made  a  bishop. 

Ordinary.  And  I  will  wish  you  a  reprieve  in  as  large  a 
draught.     Come,  don't  despair  :  it  is  yet  time  enough  to 


JONATHAN  WILD,  195 

think  of  dying ;  you  have  good  friends,  who  very  probably 
may  prevail  for  j^ou.  I  have  known  many  a  man  re- 
prieved who  had  less  reason  to  expeot  it. 

Jonathan,  But  if  I  should  flatter  myself  with  such 
hopes,  and  be  deceived — what  then  would  become  of  my 
soul? 

Ordinary.  Pugh  !  Never  mind  your  soul — leave  that 
to  me ;  I  will  render  a  good  account  of  it,  I  warrant  you. 
I  have  a  sermon  in  my  pocket  which  may  be  of  some  use 
to  you  to  hear.  I  do  not  value  myself  on  the  talent  of 
preaching,  since  no  man  ought  to  value  himself  for  any 
gift  in  this  world.  But  perhaps  there  are  many  such 
sermons.  But  to  proceed,  since  we  have  nothing  else  to 
do  till  the  punch  comes.  My  text  is  the  latter  part  of  a 
verse  only : — 

To  the  Greeks  foolishness. 

The  occasion  of  these  words  was  principally  that  philos- 
ophy of  the  Greeks  which  at  that  time  had  overrun 
great  part  of  the  heathen  world,  had  poisoned,  and,  as  it 
were,  puffed  up  their  minds  with  pride,  so  that  the}''  dis- 
regarded all  kinds  of  doctrine  in  comparison  of  their  own: 
and,  however  safe  and  however  sound  the  learning  of 
others  might  be,  yet,  if  it  anywise  contradicted  their  own 
laws,  customs,  and  received  opinions,  aivay  with  it — it  is 
not  for  us.    It  was  to  the  Greeks  foolishness. 

In  the  former  part,  therefore,  of  my  discourse  on  these 
words,  I  shall  principally  confine  myself  to  the  laying 
open  and  demonstrating  the  great  emptiness  and  vanity 
of  this  philosophy,  with  which  these  idle  and  absurd 
sophists  were  so  proudly  blown  up  and  elevated. 

And  here  1  shall  do  two  things  :  First,  I  shall  expose 
the  matter ;  and,  secondly,  the  manner  of  this  absurd 
philosophy. 

And  first,  for  the  first  of  these,  namely  the  matter. 
Now  here  we  may  retort  the  unmannerly  word  which  our 
adversaries  have  audaciously  thrown  in  our  faces ;  for 
what  was  all  this  mighty  matter  of  philosophy,  this  heap 


lOG  JONATHAN  WILD. 

of  knowledge,  which  wus  to  bring  such  large  harvests  of 
honor  to  those  who  sowed  it,  and  so  greatly  and  nobly  to 
enrich  the  ground  on  which  it  fell ;  what  was  it  but  fool- 
ishness ?  An  inconsistent  heap  of  nonsense,  of  absurdi- 
ties and  contradictions,  bringing  no  ornament  to  the 
mind  in  its  theory,  nor  exhibiting  any  usefulness  to  the 
body  in  its  practice.  What  were  all  the  sermons  and  the 
sayings,  the  fables  and  the  morals  of  all  these  wise  men, 
but,  to  use  the  word  mentioned  in  my  text  once  more, 
FOOLISHNESS  ?  What  was  their  great  master  Plato,  or 
their  other  great  light  Aristotle?  Both  fools,  mere 
quibblers  and  sophists,  idly  and  vainly  attached  to  cer- 
tain ridiculous  notions  of  their  own,  founded  neither  on 
truth  nor  on  reason.  Their  whole  works  are  a  strange 
medley  of  the  greatest  falsehoods,  scarce  covered  over 
with  the  color  of  truth  :  their  precepts  are  neither  bor- 
rowed from  nature  nor  guided  by  reason ;  mere  fictions, 
serving  oul}'  to  evince  the  dreadful  height  of  human 
pride;  in  one  word,  foolishness.  It  may  be  perhaps  ex- 
pected of  me  that  I  should  give  some  instances  from  their 
works  to  prove  this  charge ;  but,  as  to  transcribe  every 
passage  to  my  purpose  w^ould  be  to  transcribe  their 
whole  w^orks,  and  as  in  such  a  plentiful  crop  it  is  diffi- 
cult to  choose ;  instead  of  trespassing  on  your  patience, 
I  shall  conclude  this  first  head  with  asserting  what  I 
have  so  fully  proved,  and  what  may  indeed  be  inferred 
from  the  text,  that  the  philosophy  of  the  Greeks  was 
foolishness. 

Proceed  we  now,  in  the  second  place,  to  consider  the 
manner  in  which  this  inane  and  simple  doctrine  was  prop- 
agated. And  here But  here  the  punch  by  enter- 
ing waked  Mr.  Wild,  who  was  fast  asleep,  and  put  an 
end  to  the  sermon;  nor  could  we  obtain  any  farther 
account  of  the  conversation  which  passed  at  this  inter- 
view. 


V-rfn!('k 


furttihT.  4'*f)^.  ty  CrO'irui>   ** 


Here  the  punch  by  entering  waked  Mr.  Wild,  who  was  fast  asleep,  and 
put  an  end  to  the  sermon. 

From  a  drawing  by  T.  Stothard. 


196  ./'  WTLIK 

of  knowleflpv  irvestsof 

honor  '  >!)ly  to 

KOOI^ 

^urdi- 

ihe 

:ie 

■■'.a 
I', 

•r 

luuib,   iiicie 

I  lached  to  cer- 

MiKled  neither  on 

1  range 

■   over 

precepts  are  neither  bor- 

uoti  by  reason;  mere  fictions, 

.10  dreadful  height  of  human 

FOOLISHNESS.     It  may  be  perhaps  ex- 

au  i  should  give  some  instances  from  their 

this  charge;  but,  as  to  transcribe  every 

I'urpose  would   be  to  transcribe  their 

■-   in  such  a   •>i.".«i'"iil  crop  it  is  dilfi- 

I  of  trt-  on  \  our  patience, 

!j;  what  I 

v.  I'c  inferred 

the   Greeks  was 

I    the 

{'- 

r- 

tn 

irther 

-   inter- 

bnc  ..pal^E  |;;k1  ^.cw  orfw  ,bli7/    tU,  itaJfcw  ^^nnsla^  ^^  fiDmiq  -jHi  -^i^H 
.noinif>r'.  "jrij  ol  bfi;>  ns  Juq 


JONATHAN  WILD.  197 

CHAPTER  XIV. 

Wild  proceeds  to  the  highest  consummation  of  human  greatness. 

The  day  now  drew  nigh  when  our  great  man  was  to 
exemphfy  the  last  and  noblest  act  of  greatness  by 
which  any  hero  can  signalize  himself.  This  was  the  day  of 
execution,  or  consummation,  or  apotheosis  (for  it  is  called 
by  different  names),  which  was  to  give  our  hero  an  oppor- 
tunity of  facing  death  and  damnation,  without  any  fear  in 
his  heart,  or,  at  least,  without  betraying  any  symptoms 
of  it  in  his  countenance.  A  completion  of  greatness 
which  is  heartily  to  be  wished  to  every  great  man ;  noth- 
ing being  more  worthy  of  lamentation  than  when  For- 
tune, hke  a  lazy  poet,  winds  up  her  catastrophe  awk- 
wardly, and  bestowing  too  httle  care  on  her  fifth  act,  dis- 
misses the  hero  with  a  sneaking  and  private  exit,  who  had 
in  the  former  part  of  the  drama  performed  such  notable 
exploits  as  must  promise  to  every  good  judge  among  the 
spectators  a  noble,  public,  and  exalted  end. 

But  she  was  resolved  to  commit  no  such  error  in  this 
instance.  Our  hero  was  too  much  and  too  deservedly  her 
favorite  to  be  neglected  by  her  in  his  last  moments ;  ac- 
cordingly all  efforts  for  a  reprieve  were  vain,  and  the 
name  of  Wild  stood  at  the  head  of  those  who  were  ordered 
for  execution. 

From  the  time  he  gave  over  all  hopes  of  life,  his  con- 
duct was  truly  great  and  admirable.  Instead  of  showing 
any  marks  of  dejection  or  contrition,  he  rather  infused 
more  confidence  and  assurance  into  his  looks.  He  spent 
most  of  his  hours  in  drinking  with  his  friends  and  with 
the  good  man  above  commemorated.  In  one  of  these 
compotations,  being  asked  whether  he  was  afraid  to  die, 
he  answered,  "D — n  me,  it  is  only  a  dance  without 
music."  Another  time,  when  one  expressed  some  sorrow 
for  his  misfortune,  as  he  termed  it,  he  said  with  great 
fierceness, — "  A  man  can  die  but  once."    Again,  when 


198  JONATHAN  WILD. 

one  of  his  intimate  acquaintance  hinted  his  hopes  that 
he  would  die  like  a  man,  he  cocked  his  hat  in  defiance,  and 
cries  out  greatly' — **  Zounds  !  who's  afraid  ?" 

Happy  would  it  have  been  for  posterity,  could  we  have 
retrieved  any  entire  conversation  which  passed  at  this 
season,  especially  between  our  hero  and  his  learned  com- 
forter ;  but  we  have  searched  many  pasteboard  records 
in  vain. 

On  the  eve  of  his  apotheosis,  "Wild's  lady  desired  to 
see  him,  to  which  he  consented.  This  meeting  was  at  first 
very  tender  on  both  sides ;  but  it  could  not  continue  so, 
for  unluckily,  some  hints  of  former  miscarriages  inter- 
vening, as  particularly  when  she  asked  him  how  he  could 

have  used  her  so  barbarously  once  as  calling  her  b ,  and 

whether  such  language  became  a  man,  much  less  a  gen- 
tleman, Wild  flew  into  a  violent  passion,  and  swore  she  was 

the  vilest  of  b s  to  upbraid  him  at  such  a  season  with 

an  unguarded  word  spoken  long  ago.  She  replied,  with 
many  tears,  she  was  well  enough  served  for  her  folly  in 
visiting  such  a  brute  ;  but  she  had  one  comfort,  however, 
that  it  would  be  the  last  time  he  could  ever  treat  her  so ;  that 
indeed  she  had  some  obligation  to  him,  for  that  his  cruelty 
to  her  would  reconcile  her  to  the  fate  he  was  to-morrow  to 
suffer ;  and,  indeed,  nothing  but  such  brutality  could  have 
made  the  consideration  of  his  shameful  death  (so  this 
weak  woman  called  hanging),  which  was  now  inevitable, 
to  be  borne  even  without  madness.  She  then  proceeded 
to  a  recapitulation  of  his  faults  in  an  exacter  order,  and 
with  more  perfect  memor}',  than  one  would  have  imagined 
her  capable  of ;  and  it  is  probable  would  have  rehearsed  a 
complete  catalogue  had  not  our  hero's  patience  failed 
him,  so  that  with  the  utmost  fury  and  violence  he  caught 
her  by  the  hair  and  kicked  her  as  heartily  as  his  chains 
would  suffer  him  out  of  the  room. 

At  length  the  morning  came  which  Fortune  at  his  birth 
had  resolutely  ordained  for  the  consummation  of  our 
hero's  greatness  :  he  had  himself   indeed  modestly  de- 


JONATHAN  WILD.  199 

clined  the  public  honors  she  intended  him,  and  had  taken 
a  quantity  of  laudanum,  in  order  to  retire  quietly  off  the 
stage;  but  we  have  already  observed,  in  the  course  of  our 
wonderful  history,  that  to  struggle  against  this  lady's 
decrees  is  vain  and  impotent ;  and  whether  she  hath  de- 
termined you  shall  be  hanged  or  be  a  prime  minister,  it  is 
in  either  case  lost  labor  to  resist.  Laudanum,  therefore, 
being  unable  to  stop  the  breath  of  our  hero,  which  the 
fruit  of  hemp  seed,  and  not  the  spirit  of  poppy  seed,  was 
to  overcome,  he  was  at  the  usual  hour  attended  by  the 
proper  gentleman  appointed  for  that  purpose,  and  ac- 
quainted that  the  cart  was  ready.  On  this  occasion  he 
exerted  that  greatest  of  courage  which  hath  been  so  much 
celebrated  in  other  heroes  ;  and,  knowing  that  it  was  im- 
possible to  resist,  he  gravely  declared  he  would  attend 
them.  He  then  descended  to  that  room  where  the  fetters 
of  great  men  are  knocked  off  in  a  most  solemn  and  cere- 
monious manner.  Then  shaking  hands  with  his  friends 
(to  wit,  those  who  were  conducting  him  to  the  tree),  and 
drinking  their  healths  in  a  bumper  of  brandy,  he  ascended 
the  cart,  where  he  was  no  sooner  seated  than  he  received 
the  acclamations  of  the  multitude,  who  were  highly 
ravished  with  his  greatness. 

The  cart  now  moved  slowly  on,  being  preceded  by  a 
troop  of  horse-guards  bearing  javelins  in  their  hands, 
through  streets  lined  with  crowds  all  admiring  the  great 
behavior  of  our  hero,  who  rode  on,  sometimes  sighing, 
sometimes  swearing,  sometimes  singing  or  whistling,  as 
his  humor  varied. 

"When  he  came  to  the  tree  of  glory  he  was  welcomed 
with  an  universal  shout  of  the  people,  who  were  there 
assembled  in  prodigious  numbers  to  behold  a  sight  much 
more  rare  in  populous  cities  than  one  would  reasonably 
imagine  it  should  be,  viz.  the  proper  catastrophe  of  a 
great  man. 

But  though  envy  was,  through  fear,  obliged  to  join  the 
general  voice  in  applause  on  this  occasion,  there  were  not 


200  JONATHAN  WILD. 

wanting-  some  who  mali^'ned  this  completion  of  glory, 
which  was  now  about  to  be  fulfilled  to  our  hero,  and 
endeavored  to  prevent  it  by  knocking-  him  on  the  head  as 
he  stood  under  the  tree,  while  the  ordinary  was  perform- 
ing his  last  ofTice.  They  therefore  began  to  batter  the 
cart  with  stones,  brickbats,  dirt,  and  all  manner  of  mis- 
chievous weapons,  some  of  which,  erroneousl}'  playing  on 
the  robes  of  the  ecclesiastic,  made  him  so  expeditious  in 
his  repetition,  that  with  wonderful  alacrity  he  had  ended 
almost  in  an  instant,  and  conveyed  himself  into  a  place  of 
safety  in  a  hackney-coach,  where  he  waited  the  conclusion 
with  a  temper  of  mind  described  in  these  verses  : 

Suave  mari   magno,  turbantibus  aequora  ventis, 
E  terra  alterius  magnum  spectare  laborem. 

We  must  not,  however,  omit  one  circumstance,  as  it 
serves  to  show  the  most  admirable  conservation  of 
character  in  our  hero  to  the  last  moment,  which  was, 
that,  whilst  the  ordinary  was  busy  in  his  ejaculations, 
"Wild,  in  the  midst  of  the  shower  of  stones,  &c.,  which 
played  upon  him,  applied  his  hands  to  the  parson's 
pocket,  and  emptied  it  of  his  bottle-screw,  which  he 
carried  out  of  the  world  in  his  hand. 

The  ordinary  being  now  descended  from  the  cart.  Wild 
had  just  opportunity^  to  cast  his  eyes  around  the  crowd, 
and  give  them  a  hearty  curse,  when  immediately  the 
horses  moved  on,  and  with  universal  applause  our  hero 
swung  out  of  this  world. 

Thus  fell  Jonathan  Wild  the  great,  by  a  death  as 
glorious  as  his  life  had  been,  and  which  was  so  truly 
agreeable  to  it,  that  the  latter  must  have  been  deplorably 
maimed  and  imperfect  without  the  former  ;  a  death  which 
hath  been  alone  wanting  to  complete  the  characters  of 
several  ancient  and  modern  heroes,  whose  histories  would 
then  have  been  read  with  much  greater  pleasure  by  the 
wisest  in  all  ages.  Indeed  we  could  almost  wish  that 
whenever  Fortune  seems  wantonly  to  deviate  from  her 


JONATHAN  WILD.  201 

purpose,  and  leaves  her  work  imperfect  in  this  particular, 
the  historian  would  indulge  himself  in  the  license  of 
poetry  and  romance,  and  even  do  a  violence  to  truth,  to 
oblige  his  reader  with  a  page  which  must  be  the  most 
delightful  in  all  the  history,  and  which  could  never  fail  of 
producing  an  instructive  moral. 

Narrow  minds  may  possibly  have  some  reason  to  be 
ashamed  of  going  this  way  out  of  the  world,  if  their  con- 
sciences can  fly  in  their  faces  and  assure  them  they  have 
not  merited  such  an  honor  ;  but  he  must  be  a  fool  who  is 
ashamed  of  being  hanged,  who  is  not  weak  enough  to  be 
ashamed  of  having  deserved  it. 


CHAPTER  XV. 

The  character  of  our  hero,  and  the  conclusion  of  this  history. 

We  will  now  endeavor  to  draw  the  character  of  this  great 
man ;  and,  by  bringing  together  those  several  features  as 
it  were  of  his  mind  which  lie  scattered  up  and  down  in  this 
history,  to  present  our  readers  with  a  perfect  picture  of 
greatness. 

Jonathan  Wild  had  every  qualification  necessary  to 
form  a  great  man.  As  his  most  powerful  and  predomi- 
nant passion  was  ambition,  so  nature  had,  with  consum- 
mate propriety,  adapted  all  his  faculties  to  the  attaining 
those  glorious  ends  to  which  this  passion  directed  him. 
He  was  extremely  ingenious  in  inventing  designs,  artful 
in  contriving  the  means  to  accomplish  his  purposes,  and 
resolute  in  executing  them ;  for  as  the  most  exquisite 
cunning  and  most  undaunted  boldness  quahfied  him  for 
any  undertaking,  so  was  he  not  restrained  by  any  of  those 
weaknesses  which  disappoint  the  views  of  mean  and  vul- 
gar souls,  and  which  are  comprehended  in  one  general 
term  of  honesty,  which  is  a  corruption  of  honosty,  a  word 
derived  from  what  the    Greeks  call  an  ass.      He  was 


202  JONATHAN  WILD. 

entirely  free  from  those  low  vices  of  modesty  and  good- 
nature, which,  as  he  said,  implied  a  total  nc^gation  of 
human  f^reatness,  and  were  the  only  qualities  which  abso- 
lutely rendered  a  man  incapable  of  making  a  considerable 
figure  in  the  world.  His  lust  was  inferior  only  to  his 
ambition  ;  but,  as  for  what  simple  people  call  love,  he  knew 
not  what  it  was.  His  avarice  was  immense,  but  it  was  of 
the  rapacious,  not  of  the  tenacious  kind  ;  his  rapacious- 
ness  was  indeed  so  violent,  that  nothing  ever  contented 
him  but  the  whole  ;  for,  however  considerable  the  share 
was  which  his  coadjutors  allowed  him  of  a  booty,  he  was 
restless  in  inventing  means  to  make  himself  master  of  the 
smallest  pittance  reserved  by  them.  He  said  laws  were 
made  for  the  use  of  prigs  onl}',  and  to  secure  their  prop- 
erty ;  they  were  never  therefore  more  perverted  than 
when  their  edge  was  turned  against  these ;  but  that  this 
generally  happened  through  their  want  of  sufficient  dex- 
terit}'.  The  character  which  he  most  valued  himself 
upon,  and  which  he  principally  honored  in  others,  was 
that  of  hypocrisy.  His  opinion  was,  that  no  one  could 
carry  priggism  very  far  without  it ;  for  which  reason,  he 
said,  there  was  little  greatness  to  be  expected  in  a  man 
who  acknowledged  his  vices,  but  alwaj^s  much  to  be 
hoped  from  him  who  professed  great  virtues  :  wherefore, 
though  he  would  always  shun  the  person  whom  he  dis- 
covered guilty  of  a  good  action,  yet  he  was  never 
deterred  by  a  good  character,  which  was  more  com- 
monly the  effect  of  profession  than  of  action  ;  for  which 
reason  he  himself  was  ahvays  very  liberal  of  honest  pro- 
fessions, and  had  as  much  virtue  and  goodness  in  his 
mouth  as  a  saint ;  never  in  the  least  scrupling  to  swear 
by  his  honor,  even  to  those  who  knew  him  the  best ;  nay, 
though  he  held  good-nature  and  modesty  in  the  highest 
contempt,  he  constantly  practised  the  affectation  of  both, 
and  recommended  this  to  others,  whose  welfare,  on  his 
own  account,  he  wished  well  to.  He  laid  down  several 
maxims  as  the  certain  methods  of  attaining  greatness,  to 


JONATHAN  WILD.  203 

which,  in  his  own  pursuit  of  it,  he  constantly  adhered.    As, 

1.  Never  to  do  more  mischief  to  another  than  was  neces- 
sary to  the  effecting-  his  purpose ;  for  that  mischief 
was  too  precious  a  thing-  to  be  thrown  away. 

2.  To  know  no  distinction  of  men  from  affection ;  but  to 
sacrifice  all  with  equal  readiness  to  his  interest. 

3.  Never  to  communicate  more  of  an  affair  than  was 
necessary  to  the  person  who  was  to  execute  it. 

4.  Not  to  trust  him  who  hath  deceived  you,  nor  who 
knows  he  hath  been  deceived  by  you. 

5.  To  forgive  no  enemy;  but  to  be  cautious  and  often 
dilatory  in  revenge. 

6.  To  shun  poverty  and  distress,  but  to  ally  himself  as 

close  as  possible  to  power  and  riches. 

7.  To  maintain  a  constant  gravity  in  his  countenance  and 
behavior,  and  to  affect  wisdom  on  all  occasions. 

8.  To  foment  eternal  jealousies  in  his  gang,  one  of 
another. 

9.  Never  to  reward  any  one  equal  to  his  merit;  but 
always  to  insinuate  that  the  reward  was  above  it. 

10.  That  all  men  were  knaves  or  fools,  and  much  the 
greater  number  a  composition  of  both. 

11.  That  a  good  name,  like  money,  must  be  parted  with, 
or  at  least  greatly  risked,  in  order  to  bring  the 
owner  any  advantage. 

12.  That  virtues,  like  precious  stones,  were  easily  coun- 
terfeited ;  that  the  counterfeits  in  both  cases  adorned 
the  wearer  equally,  and  that  very  few  had  knowledge 
or  discernment  sufficient  to  distinguish  the  counter- 
feit jewel  from  the  real. 

13.  That  many  men  were  undone  by  not  going  deep 
enough  in  roguery  ;  as  in  gaming  any  man  may  be  a 
loser  who  doth  not  play  the  whole  g-ame. 

14.  That  men  proclaim  their  own  virtues,  as  shopkeepers 
expose  their  goods,  in  order  to  profit  by  them. 

15.  That  the  heart  was  the  proper  seat  of  hatred,  and  the 

countenance  of  affection  and  friendship. 


204  JONATHAN  WILD. 

He  had  many  more  of  the  same  kind,  all  equally'  good 
with  these,  and  which  were  after  his  decease  found  in  his 
study,  as  the  twelve  excellent  and  celebrated  rules  were 
in  that  of  King  Charles  the  First ;  for  he  never  promul- 
gated them  in  his  lifetime,  not  having  them  constantly  in 
his  mouth,  as  some  grave  persons  have  the  rules  of  vir- 
tue and  moralit}',  without  paying  tlio  least  regard  to 
them  in  their  actions  :  whereas  our  hero,  by  a  constant 
and  steady  adherence  to  his  rules  in  conforming  every- 
thing he  did  to  them,  acquired  at  length  a  settled  habit 
of  walking  b}'  them,  till  at  last  he  was  in  no  danger  of 
inadvertently  going  out  of  the  way ;  and  by  these  means 
he  arrived  at  that  degree  of  greatness  which  few  have 
equaled  ;  none,  we  may  say,  have  exceeded  :  for,  though 
it  must  be  allowed  that  there  have  been  some  few  heroes 
who  have  done  greater  mischiefs  to  mankind,  such  as 
those  who  have  betrayed  the  liberty  of  their  country  to 
others,  or  who  have  undermined  and  overpowered  it 
themselves ;  or  conquerors  who  have  impoverished,  pil- 
laged, sacked,  burnt,  and  destroyed  the  countries  and 
cities  of  their  fellow-creatures,  from  no  other  provocation 
than  that  of  glory,  i.  e.  as  the  tragic  poet  calls  it, 

a  jjrivilege  to  kill, 
A  strong  temptation  to  do  bravely  ill ; 

yet,  if  we  consider  it  in  the  light  wherein  actions  are 
placed  in  this  line, 

Laetius  est,  quoties  magno  tibi  constat  honestum ; 

when  we  see  our  hero,  without  the  least  assistance  or  pre- 
tence, setting  himself  at  the  head  of  a  gang  which  he  had 
not  any  shadow  of  right  to  govern ;  if  we  view  him  main- 
taining absolute  power  and  exercising  tyranny  over  a 
lawless  crew,  contrary  to  all  law  but  that  of  his  own  will ; 
if  we  consider  him  setting  up  an  open  trade  publicly,  in 
defiance  not  only  of  the  laws  of  his  country  but  of  the 
common  sense  of  his  countrymen  ;  if  we  see  him  first 
contriving  the  robbery  of  others,  and  again  the  defraud- 


JONATHAN  WILD.  205 

ing  the  very  robbers  of  that  booty  which  they  had  ven- 
tured their  necks  to  acquire,  and  which,  without  any 
hazard,  they  might  have  retained,  here  sure  he  must 
appear  admirable,  and  we  may  challenge  not  only  the 
truth  of  history,  but  almost  the  latitude  of  fiction,  to 
equal  his  glory. 

Nor  had  he  any  of  those  flaws  in  his  character  which, 
though  they  have  been  commended  by  w^ak  writers, 
have  (as  I  hinted  in  the  beginning  of  this  history)  by  the 
judicious  reader  been  censured  and  despised.  Such  was 
the  clemency  of  Alexander  and  Caesar,  which  nature  had 
so  grossly  erred  in  giving  them,  as  a  painter  would  who 
should  dress  a  peasant  in  the  robes  of  state,  or  give  the 
nose  or  any  other  feature  of  a  Venus  to  a  satyr.  What 
had  the  destroyers  of  mankind,  that  glorious  pair,  one  of 
whom  came  into  the  world  to  usurp  the  dominion  and 
abolish  the  constitution  of  his  own  country ;  the  other  to 
conquer,  enslave,  and  rule  over  the  whole  world,  at  least, 
so  much  as  was  well  known  to  him,  and  the  shortness  of 
his  life  would  give  him  leave  to  visit ;  what  had,  I  say, 
such  as  these  to  do  with  clemency  ^  Who  cannot  see  the 
absurdity  and  contradiction  of  mixing  such  an  ingredient 
with  those  noble  and  great  qualities  I  have  before  men- 
tioned ?  Now,  in  Wild  everything  was  truly  great, 
almost  without  alloy,  as  his  imperfections  (for  surely 
some  small  ones  he  had)  were  only  such  as  served  to  de- 
nominate him  a  human  creature,  of  which  kind  none  ever 
arrived  at  consummate  excellence.  But  surely  his  whole 
behavior  to  his  friend  Heartfree  is  a  convincing  proof 
that  the  true  iron  or  steel  greatness  of  his  heart  was  not 
debased  by  any  softer  metal.  Indeed,  while  greatness 
consists  in  power,  pride,  insolence,  and  doing  mischief  to 
mankind — to  speak  out — while  a  great  man  and  a  great 
rogue  are  synonymous  terms,  so  long  shall  Wild  stand 
unrivaled  on  the  pinnacle  of  greatness.  Nor  must  we 
omit  here,  as  the  finishing  of  his  character,  what  indeed 
ought  to  be  remembered  on  his  tomb  or  his  statue,  the 


20G  JONATHAN  WILD, 

conformity  above  mentioned  of  his  death  to  his  life  ;  and 
that  Jonathan  Wild  the  Great,  after  all  his  mighty  ex- 
ploits, was,  what  so  few  gkeat  men  can  accomplish — 
hanged  by  the  neck  till  he  was  dead. 

Having-  thus  brought  our  hero  to  his  conclusion,  it  may 
be  satisfactory  to  some  readers  (for  many,  I  doubt  not, 
carry  their  concern  no  farther  than  his  fate)  to  know 
what  became  of  Heartfree.  We  shall  acquaint  them, 
therefore,  that  his  sufferings  were  now  at  an  end  ;  that 
the  good  magistrate  easily  prevailed  for  his  pardon,  nor 
was  contented  till  he  had  made  him  all  the  reparation  he 
could  for  his  troubles,  though  the  share  he  had  in  bring- 
ing these  upon  him  was  not  only  innocent  but  from  its 
motive  laudable.  He  procured  the  restoration  of  the  jew- 
els from  the  man-of-war  at  her  return  to  England,  and, 
above  all,  omitted  no  labor  to  restore  Heartfree  to  his 
reputation,  and  to  persuade  his  neighbors,  acquaintances, 
and  customers  of  his  innocence.  When  the  commission 
of  bankruptcy  was  satisfied,  Heartfree  had  a  considerable 
sum  remaining  ;  for  the  diamond  presented  to  his  wife 
w^as  of  prodigious  value,  and  infinitely  recompensed  the 
loss  of  those  jewels  which  Miss  Straddle  had  disposed  of. 
He  now  set  up  again  in  his  trade ;  compassion  for  his  un- 
merited misfortunes  brought  him  many  customers  among 
those  who  had  any  regard  to  humanity ;  and  he  hath,  by 
industry  joined  wath  parsimony,  amassed  a  considerable 
fortune.  His  wife  and  he  are  now  grown  old  in  the  pur- 
est love  and  friendship,  but  never  had  another  child. 
Friendly  married  his  eldest  daughter  at  the  age  of  nine- 
teen, and  became  his  partner  in  trade.  As  to  the  younger, 
Bhe  never  would  listen  to  the  addresses  of  any  lover,  not 
even  of  a  young  nobleman,  who  offered  to  take  her  with 
two  thousand  pounds,  which  her  father  would  have  will- 
ingly produced,  and  indeed  did  his  utmost  to  persuade 
her  to  the  match  ;  but  she  refused  absolutely,  nor  would 
give  any  other  reason  when  Heartfree  pressed  her,  than 
that  she  had  dedicated  her  days  to  his  service,  and  was 


JONATHAN  WILD.  207 

resolved  no  other  duty  should  interfere  with  that  which 
she  owed  to  the  best  of  fathers,  nor  prevent  her  from 
being-  the  nurse  of  his  old  age. 

Thus  Heartfree,  his  wife,  his  two  daughters,  his  son-in- 
law,  and  his  grandchildren,  of  which  he  hath  several,  live 
all  together  in  one  house  ;  and  that,  with  such  amity  and 
affection  towards  each  other,  that  they  are  in  the  neigh- 
borhood called  the  family  of  love. 

As  to  all  che  other  persons  mentioned  in  this  history  in 
the  light  of  greatness,  they  had  all  the  fate  adapted  to  it, 
being-  every  one  hanged  by  the  neck,  save  two,  viz.  Miss 
Theodosia  Snap,  who  was  transported  to  America,  where 
she  was  pretty  well  married,  reformed,  and  made  a  good 
wife  ;  and  the  count,  who  recovered  of  the  wound  he  had 
received  of  the  hermit  and  made  his  escape  into  France, 
where  he  committed  a  robbery,  was  taken,  and  broke  on 
the  wheel. 

Indeed,  whoever  considers  the  common  fate  of  great 
men  must  allow  they  well  deserve  and  hardly  earn  that 
applause  which  is  given  them  by  the  world  ;  for,  when  we 
reflect  on  the  labors  and  pains,  the  cares,  disquietudes, 
and  dangers  which  attend  their  road  to  greatness,  we  may 
say  with  the  divine  that  a  man  may  go  to  Heaven  with 
half  the  pains  which  it  costs  him  to  purchase  hell.  To 
say  the  truth,  the  world  has  this  reason  at  least  to  honor 
such  characters  as  that  of  Wild  :  that,  while  it  is  in  the 
power  of  every  man  to  be  perfectly  honest,  not  one  in  a 
thousand  is  capable  of  being  a  complete  rogue  ;  and  few 
indeed  there  are  who,  if  they  were  inspired  with  the  vanity 
of  imitating  our  hero,  would  not  after  much  fruitless  pains 
be  obliged  to  own  themselves  inferior  to  Mr.  Jonathan 
Wild  the  Great. 


MISCELLANIES, 


B  Y 


Henry  Fielding  E(q; 


VOL.    IL 

A  JOURNEY   from  this 
World  to  the  Next,  ^c. 


LONDON:* 

Printed  for  A.  Milxar,  oppolitc 
Catbarine-Streety  in  the  Strand* 

MDCCXLIIL 


THE  INTEODUCTION. 

Whether  the  ensuing  pages  were  really  the  dream  or 
vision  of  some  very  pious  and  holy  person ;  or  whether  they 
were  really  written  in  the  other  world,  and  sent  back  to 
this,  which  is  the  opinion  of  many  (though  I  think  too 
much  inclining  to  superstition ;  or  lastly,  whether,  as  infin- 
itely the  greatest  part  imagine,  they  were  really  the  pro- 
duction of  some  choice  inhabitant  of  !N"ew-Bethlehem,  is 
not  necessary  nor  easy  to  determine.  It  will  be  abundant- 
ly sufficient,  if  I  give  the  reader  an  account  by  what  means 
they  came  into  my  possession. 

Mr.  Robert  Powney,  stationer,  who  dwells  opposite  to 
Catharine-street  in  the  Strand,  a  very  honest  man,  and  of 
great  gravity  of  countenance ;  who,  among  other  excellent 
stationery  commodities,  is  particularly  eminent  for  his 
pens,  which  I  am  abundantly  bound  to  acknowledge  as  I 
owe  to  their  peculiar  goodness,  that  my  manuscripts  have  by 
any  means  been  legible:  this  gentleman,  I  say,  furnished 
me  some  time  since  with  a  bundle  of  those  pens,  wrapt  up 
with  great  care  and  caution,  in  a  very  large  sheet  of  paper 
full  of  characters,  written  as  it  seemed  in  a  very  bad  hand. 
!Now,  I  have  a  surprising  curiosity  to  read  everything 
which  is  almost  illegible;  partly,  perhaps  from  the  sweet 
remembrance  of  the  dear  Scrawls,  Skr awls, or  Skrales,  (for 
the  word  is  variously  spelt,)  which  I  have  in  my  youth  re- 
ceived from  that  lovely  part  of  the  creation  for  which  I 
have  the  tenderest  regard;  and  partly  from  that  temper 
of  mind  which  makes  men  set  an  immense  value  on  old 

211 


212  THE    INTRODUCTION. 

manuscripts  so  effaced,  biistoes  so  maimed,  and  pictures  so 
black,  that  no  one  can  tell  what  to  make  of  them.  I  there- 
fore perused  this  sheet  with  wonderful  application,  and 
in  about  a  day's  time  discovered  that  I  could  not  under- 
stand it.  I  immediately  repaired  to  Mr.  Powney,  and 
enquired  very  eagerly,  whether  he  had  not  more  of  the 
same  manuscript  ?  He  produced  about  one  hundred  pages, 
acquainting  me  that  he  had  saved  no  more;  but  that  the 
book  was  originally  a  huge  folio,  had  been  left  in  his  garret 
by  a  gentleman  who  lodged  there,  and  who  had  left  him  no 
other  satisfaction  for  nine  months  lodging.  lie  proceeded 
to  inform  me,  that  the  manuscript  had  been  hawked  about 
(as  he  phrased  it)  among  all  the  booksellers  who  refused 
to  meddle;  some  alleged  that  they  could  not  read,  others 
that  they  could  not  understand  it.  Some  would  have  it 
to  be  an  atheistical  book,  and  some  that  it  was  a  libel  on  the 
government;  for  one  or  other  of  which  reasons,  they  all 
refused  to  print  it.  That  it  had  been  likewise  shown  to 
the  E — 1  Society,  but  they  shook  their  heads,  saying, 
there  was  nothing  in  it  wonderful  enough  for  them.  That 
hearing  the  gentleman  was  gone  to  the  West  Indies,  and 
believing  it  to  be  good  for  nothing  else,  he  had  used  it  as 
waste  paper.  He  said,  I  was  welcome  to  what  remained, 
and  he  was  heartily  sorry  for  what  was  missing,  as  I  seemed 
to  set  some  value  on  it. 

I  desired  him  much  to  name  a  price :  but  he  would  re- 
ceive no  consideration  farther  than  the  payment  of  a  small 
bill  I  owed  him,  which  at  that  time  he  said  he  looked  on 
as  so  much  money  given  him. 

I  presently  communicated  this  manuscript  to  my  friend 
parson  Abraham  Adams,  who,  after  a  long  and  careful 
perusal,  returned  it  me  with  his  opinion,  that  there  was 
more  in  it  than  at  first  appeared,  that  the  author  seemed 
not  entirely  unacquainted  with  the  writings  of  Plato ;  but 


TEE    INTRODUCTION.  213 

he  wished  he  had  quoted  him  sometimes  in  his  margin,  that 
I  might  be  sure  (said  he)  he  had  read  him  in  the  original: 
for  nothing,  continued  the  parson,  is  commoner  than  for 
men  now-a-dajs  to  pretend  to  have  read  Greek  authors,  who 
have  met  with  them  only  in  translations,  and  cannot  con- 
jugate a  verb  in  mi. 

To  deliver  my  own  sentiments  on  the  occasion,  I  think 
the  author  discovers  a  philosophical  turn  of  thinking,  with 
some  little  knowledge  of  the  world,  and  no  very  inadequate 
value  of  it.  There  are  some  indeed,  who  from  the  vivacity 
of  their  temper,  and  the  happiness  of  their  station,  are  will- 
ing to  consider  its  blessings  as  more  substantial,  and  the 
whole  to  be  a  scene  of  more  consequence  than  it  is  here  rep- 
resented: but  without  controverting  their  opinions  at 
present,  the  number  of  wise  and  good  men,  who  have 
thought  with  our  author,  are  sufficient  to  keep  him  in  count- 
enance: nor  can  this  be  attended  with  any  ill  inference, 
since  he  everywhere  teaches  this  moral.  That  the  greatest 
and  truest  happiness  which  this  world  affords,  is  to  be 
found  only  in  the  possession  of  goodness  and  virtue;  a 
doctrine,  which  as  it  is  undoubtedly  true,  so  hath  it  so  noble 
and  practical  a  tendency,  that  it  can  never  be  too  often  or 
too  strongly  inculcated  on  the  minds  of  men. 


A  JOUENEY  FROI 
TRIS  WORLD  TO  THE  NEXT,  ETC. 


BOOK  I. 
CHAPTER  I. 


The  author  dies,  meets  with  Mercury,  and  is  by  him  conducted  to 
the  stage,  which  sets  out  for  the  other  world. 

On  the  first  day  of  December,  1741,*  I  departed  this 
life  at  my  lodging  in  Cheapside.  My  body  had  been  some 
time  dead  before  I  was  at  liberty  to  quit  it,  lest  it  should 
by  any  accident  return  to  life:  this  is  an  injunction  im- 
posed on  all  souls  by  the  eternal  law  of  fate,  to  prevent  the 
inconveniencies  which  would  follow.  As  soon  as  the  des- 
tined period  was  expired  (being  no  longer  than  till  the 
body  is  become  perfectly  cold  and  stiff,)  I  began  to  move; 
but  found  myself  under  difficulty  of  making  my  escape,  for 
the  mouth  or  door,  was  shut ;  so  that  it  was  impossible  for 
me  to  go  out  at  it,  and  the  windows  vulgarly  called  the  eyes, 
were  so  closely  pulled  down  by  the  fingers  of  a  nurse,  that 
I  could  by  no  means  open  them.  At  last,  I  perceived  a 
beam  of  light  glimmering  at  the  top  of  the  house  (for  such 
I  may  call  the  body  I  had  been  inclosed  in)  whither  ascend- 
ing, I  gently  let  myself  down  through  a  kind  of  chimney, 
and  issued  out  at  the  nostrils. 

IsTo  prisoner  discharged  from  a  long  confinement,  ever 

*  Some  doubt  whether  this  should  not  be  rather  1641,  which  is  a  date  more  agree- 
able to  the  account  given  of  it  in  the  introduction  :  but  then  there  are  some  pas- 
sages which  seem  to  relate  to  transactions  infinitely  later,  even  within  this  year 
or  two.— To  say  the  truth,  there  are  difBculties  attend  either  conjecture  ;  so  the 
reader  may  take  which  he  pleases. 

215 


210  A   JOURNEY  FROM   THIS 

tasted  the  sweets  of  liberty  witli  a  more  exquisite  relish, 
than  I  enjoyed  in  this  delivery  from  a  dungeon  wherein  I 
had  been  dotainod  u])\vard3  of  forty  years,  and  witli  much 
the  same  kind  of  regard  I  cast  my  eyes  *  backwards  upon  it. 

My  friends  and  relations  had  all  quitted  the  room,  being 
all  (as  I  plainly  overheard)  very  loudly  quarreling  below 
stairs  about  my  will;  tJicre  was  only  an  old  woman  left 
above,  to  guard  the  body,  as  I  apprehend.  She  was  in  a 
fast  sleep,  occasioned,  as  from  her  savor  it  seemed,  by  a 
comfortable  dose  of  gin.  I  had  no  pleasure  in  this  com- 
pany, and  therefore,  as  the  window  was  wide  open,  I  sal- 
lied forth  into  the  open  air ;  but  to  my  great  astonishment 
found  myself  unable  to  fly,  which  I  had  always  during  my 
habitation  in  the  body  conceived  of  spirits;  however,  I 
came  so  lightly  to  the  ground,  that  I  did  not  hurt  myself ; 
and  though  I  had  not  the  gift  of  flying  (owing  probably  to 
my  having  neither  feathers  nor  wings,)  I  was  capable  of 
hopping  such  a  prodigious  way  at  once,  that  it  served  my 
turn  almost  as  well. 

I  had  not  hopped  far,  before  I  perceived  a  tall  young 
gentleman  in  a  silk  waistcoat,  with  a  wing  on  his  left  heel, 
a  garland  on  his  head,  and  a  caduceus  in  his  right  hand.f 
I  thought  I  had  seen  this  person  before,  but  had  not  time 
to  recollect  where,  when  he  called  out  to  me,  and  asked 
me  how  long  I  had  been  departed.  I  answered,  I  was  just 
come  forth.  "  You  must  not  stay  here,"  replied  he,  "  un- 
less you  have  been  murdered :  in  which  case  indeed,  you 
might  have  been  suffered  to  walk  some  time:  but  if  you 
died  a  natural  death,  you  must  set  out  for  the  other  world 
immediately."  I  desired  to  know  the  way.  "  O,"  cried 
the   gentleman,    "  I   will    show   you   to   the    inn   whence 

•  Eyes  are  not  perhaps  so  properly  adapted  to  a  spiritual  substance  ;  but  we 
are  here,  as  in  many  other  places,  obliged  to  use  corporeal  terms  to  make  our- 
selves the  better  understood. 

+  This  is  the  dress  in  which  the  god  appears  to  mortals  at  the  theaters.  One  of 
the  offices  attributed  to  this  Kod  by  the  ancients,  was  to  collect  the  ghosts  as  a 
shepherd  doth  a  flock  of  sheep,  and  drive  them  with  his  wand  into  the  other 
world. 


WORLD  TO  THE  NEXT,  &c.  217 

the  stage  proceeds:  for  I  am  the  porter.  Perhaps  you 
never  heard  of  me,  my  name  is  Mercury."  "  Sure, 
Sir,"  said  I,  "  I  have  seen  you  at  the  j)layhouse."  Upon 
which  he  smiled,  and  without  satisfying  me  as  to  that 
point,  walked  directly  forward,  bidding  me  hop  after  him. 
I  obeyed  him,  and  soon  found  myself  in  Warwick-lane ; 
where  Mercury  making  a  full  stop,  pointed  at  a  particular 
house,  where  he  bade  me  enquire  for  the  stage,  and  wishing 
me  a  good  journey,  took  his  leave,  saying,  he  must  go  seek 
after  other  customers. 

I  arrived  just  as  the  coach  was  setting  out,  and  found  I 
had  no  occasion  for  enquiry ;  for  every  person  seemed  to 
know  my  business  the  moment  I  appeared  at  the  door ;  the 
coachman  told  me,  his  horses  were  to,  but  that  he  had  no 
place  left ;  however,  though  they  were  already  six,  the 
passengers  offered  to  make  room  for  me.  I  thanked  them, 
and  ascended  without  much  ceremony.  We  immediately 
began  our  journey,  being  seven  in  number;  for  as  the 
women  Avore  no  hoops,  three  of  them  were  but  equal  to  two 
men. 

Perhaps,  reader,  thou  may'st  be  pleased  with  an  account 
of  this  whole  equipage,  as  peradventure  thou  wilt  not, 
while  alive,  see  any  such.  The  coach  was  made  by  an 
eminent  toyman,  who  is  well  known  to  deal  in  immaterial 
substance,  that  being  the  matter  of  which  it  was  com- 
pounded. The  work  was  so  extremely  fine,  that  it  was  en- 
tirely invisible  to  the  human  eye.  The  horses  which  drew 
this  extraordinary  vehicle  were  all  spiritual  as  well  as  the 
passengers.  They  had,  indeed,  all  died  in  the  service  of 
a  certain  post-master ;  and  as  for  the  coachman,  who  was  a 
very  thin  piece  of  immaterial  substance,  he  had  the 
honour  while  alive  of  driving  the  Great  Peter,  or  Peter  the 
Great,  in  whose  service  his  soul,  as  well  as  body,  was  al- 
most starved  to  death. 

Such  was  the  vehicle  in  which  I  set  out,  and  now,  those 
who  are  not  willing  to  travel  on  with  me,  may,  if  they; 


218  A   JOURNEY  FROM   THIS 

please,   stop  here;   those  who  arc,   must  proceed  to  the 
subsequent  chapters,  in  which  this  journey  is  continued. 


CHAPTER  11. 

In  which  the  author  first   refutes   some  idle  opinions  concerning 
spirits,  and  the  passengers  relate  their  several  deatlis. 

It  is  the  common  opinion  that  spirits,  like  owls,  can  see 
in  the  dark ;  nay,  and  can  then  most  easily  be  perceived  by 
others.  For  which  reason,  many  persons  of  good  under- 
standing, to  prevent  being  terrified  with  such  objects, 
usually  keep  a  candle  burning  by  them,  that  the  light  may 
prevent  their  seeing.  Mr.  Locke,  in  direct  opposition  to 
this,  hath  not  doubted  to  assert,  that  you  may  see  a  spirit 
in  open  daylight  full  as  well  as  in  the  darkest  night. 

It  was  very  dark  when  we  set  out  from  the  inn,  nor  could 
we  see  any  more  than  if  every  soul  of  us  had  been  alive. 
We  had  traveled  a  good  way,  before  any  one  offered  to 
open  his  mouth;  indeed,  most  of  the  company  were  fast 
asleep* :  but  as  I  could  not  close  my  own  eyes,  and  per- 
ceived the  spirit,  who  sat  opposite  to  me,  to  be  likewise 
awake,  I  began  to  make  overtures  of  conversation,  by  com- 
plaining Jioiv  dark  it  was.  "And  extremely  cold  too," 
answered  my  fellow-traveler,  "  though  I  thank  God,  as 
I  have  no  body,  I  feel  no  inconvenience  from  it:  But  yoa 
will  Ix^lieve,  Sir,  that  this  frosty  air  must  seem  very  sharp 
to  one  just  issued  forth  out  of  an  oven :  for  such  was  the 
inflamed  habitation  I  am  lately  departed  from."  "  How 
did  you  come  to  your  end.  Sir  ?  "  said  I.  "  I  was  mur- 
dered. Sir,"  answered  the  gentleman.  "  I  am  surprised 
then,"  replied  I,  "  that  you  did  not  divert  yourself  by 
walking  up  and  down,  and  playing  some  merry  tricks  with 

»  Those  who  have  read  of  the  gods  sleeping  in  Homer,  will  not  be  surprised  at 
this  happening  to  spirits. 


WORLD  TO  TEE  NEXT,  &c.  219 

the  murderer."  "  Oh,  Sir,"  returned  he,  "  I  had  not  that 
privilege,  I  was  lawfully  put  to  death.  In  short,  a  physi- 
cian set  me  ou  fire,  by  giving  me  medicines  to  throw  out 
my  distemper.  I  died  of  a  hot  regimen,  as  they  call  it,  in 
the  small-pox." 

One  of  the  spirits  at  that  word  started  up,  and  cried  out, 
"  The  small-pox !  bless  me !  I  hope  I  am  not  in  company 
with  that  distemper,  which  I  have  all  my  life  with  such 
caution  avoided,  and  have  so  happily  escaped  hitherto !  " 
This  fright  set  all  the  passengers  who  were  awake  into  a 
loud  laughter ;  and  the  gentleman  recollecting  himself  with 
some  confusion  and  not  without  blushing,  asked  pardon, 
crying,  "  I  protest  I  dreamt  that  I  was  alive."  "  Perhaps, 
Sir,"  said  I,  "  you  died  of  that  distemper,  which  therefore 
made  so  strong  an  impression  on  you."  "  JSTo,  Sir,"  an- 
swered he,  "I  never  had  it  in  my  life ;  but  the  continual 
and  dreadful  apprehension  it  kej)t  me  so  long  under, 
cannot,  I  see  be  so  immediately  eradicated.  You  must 
know.  Sir,  I  avoided  coming  to  London  for  thirty  years 
together,  for  fear  of  the  small-pox,  till  the  most  urgent 
business  brought  me  thither  about  five  days  ago.  I  was  so 
dreadfully  afraid  of  this  disease,  that  I  refused  the  second 
night  of  my  arrival  to  sup  with  a  friend,  whose  wife  had 
recovered  of  it  several  months  before,  and  the  same  even- 
ing got  a  surfeit  by  eating  too  many  mussels,  which 
brought  me  into  this  good  company." 

"  I  will  lay  a  wager,"  cried  the  spirit,  who  sat  next  to 
him,  "there  is  not  one  in  the  coach  able  to  guess  my  distem- 
per." I  desire  the  favour  of  him,  to  acquaint  us  with  it, 
if  it  was  so  uncommon.  "  Why,  Sir,"  said  he,  "  I  died 
of  honour." — "Of  honour.  Sir!"  repeated  I,  with  some 
surprise.  "  Yes,  Sir,"  answered  the  spirit,  "  of  honour, 
for  I  was  killed  in  a  duel." 

"  For  my  part,"  said  a  fair  spirit,  "  I  was  inoculated 
last  summer,  and  had  the  good  fortune  to  escape  with  a 
very  few  marks   in  my  face.     I  esteemed  myself _  now 


220  A   JOURNEY  FROM   THIS 

perfectly  happy,  as  I  imagined  I  luul  no  restraint  to  a  full 
enjoyment  of  the  diversions  of  the  town ;  but  within  a  few 
days  after  my  coming  up,  I  caught  cold  by  over-dancing 
myself  at  a  ball,  and  last  night  died  of  a  violent  fever." 

After  a  short  silence  which  now  ensued,  the  fair  spirit 
who  spoke  last,  it  being  now  day-light,  addressed  herself  to 
a  female,  who  sat  next  her,  and  asked  her  to  what  chance 
they  owed  the  happiness  of  her  company.  She  answered, 
she  apprehended  to  a  consumption :  but  the  physcians  were 
not  agreed  concerning  her  distemper,  for  she  left  two  of 
them  in  a  very  hot  dispute  about  it,  when  she  came  out  of 
her  body.  "  And  pray,  madam,"  said  the  same  spirit,  to 
the  sixth  passenger,  "  How  came  you  to  leave  the  other 
world  ?  "  Eut  that  female  spirit  screwing  up  her  mouth, 
answered,  she  wondered  at  the  curiosity  of  some  people; 
that  perhaps  persons  had  already  heard  some  reports  of 
her  death,  which  were  far  from  being  true :  that  whatever 
was  the  occasion  of  it,  she  was  glad  at  being  delivered  from 
a  world,  in  which  she  had  no  pleasure,  and  where  there 
Avas  nothing  but  nonsense  and  impertinence;  particularly 
among  her  own  sex,  whose  loose  conduct  she  had  long  been 
entirely  ashamed  of. 

The  beauteous  spirit,  perceiving  her  question  gave 
offense,  pursued  it  no  farther.  She  had  indeed  all  the 
sweetness  and  good  humour,  which  are  so  extremely  ami- 
able (when  found)  in  that  sex,  which  tenderness  most 
exquisitely  becomes.  Iler  countenance  displayed  all  the 
cheerfulness,  the  good-nature,  and  the  modesty,  which 
diffuse  such  brightness  round  the  beauty  of  Seraphina,* 
awing  every  beholder  with  respect,  and  at  tlie  same  time, 
ravishing  him  with  admiration.  Had  it  not  been  indeed  for 
our  conversation  on  the  small-pox,  I  should  have  imagined 
wo  had  been  honoured  with  her  identical  presence.  This 
opinion  might  have  been  heightened  by  the  good  sense  she 

•  A  particular  lady  of  quality  is  meant  here  ;  but  every  lady  of  quality,  or  no 
quality,  are  welcome  to  apply  the  character  to  themselves. 


WORLD  TO  THE  NEXT,  &c.  221 

uttered,  whenever  she  spoke :  bj  the  delicacy  of  her  senti- 
ments, and  the  complacence  of  her  behaviour  together 
with  a  certain  dignity,  which  attended  every  look,  word, 
and  gesture ;  qualities  which  could  not  fail  making  an 
impression  on  a  heart*  so  capable  of  receiving  it  as  mine, 
nor  was  she  long  in  raising  in  me  a  very  violent  degree  of 
seraphic  love.  I  do  not  intend  by  this,  that  sort  of  love 
which  men  are  very  properly  said  to  make  to  women  in 
the  lower  world,  and  which  seldom  lasts  any  longer  than 
while  it  is  making.  I  mean  by  seraphic  love,  an  extreme 
delicacy  and  tenderness  of  friendship,  of  which,  my  worthy 
reader,  if  thou  hast  no  conception,  as  it  is  probable  thou 
mayst  not,  my  endeavour  to  instruct  thee  would  be  as  fruit- 
less, as  it  would  be  to  explain  the  most  difficult  problems 
of  Sir  Isaac  ISTewton  to  one  ignorant  of  vulgar  arithmetic. 

To  return  therefore  to  matters  comprehensible  by  all 
understandings;  the  discourse  now  turned  on  the  vanity, 
folly,  and  misery  of  the  lower  world,  from  which  every 
passenger  in  the  coach  expressed  the  highest  satisfaction 
in  being  delivered :  though  it  was  very  remarkable,  that 
notwithstanding  the  joy  we  declared  at  our  death,  there 
was  not  one  of  us  who  did  not  mention  the  accident  which 
occasioned  it,  as  a  thing  we  would  have  avoided  if  we 
could.  ISTay,  the  very  grave  lady  herself,  who  was  the  for- 
wardest  in  testifying  her  delight,  confessed  inadvertently, 
that  she  left  a  physician  by  her  bedside.  And  the  gentle- 
man, who  died  of  honour,  very  literally  cursed  both  his 
folly,  and  his  fencing.  While  we  were  entertaining  our- 
selves with  these  matters,  on  a  sudden  a  most  offensive 
smell  began  to  invade  our  nostrils.  This  very  much  resem- 
bled the  savour,  which  travelers,  in  summer,  perceive  at 
their  approach  to  that  beautiful  village  of  the  Hague,  aris- 
ing from  those  delicious  canals,  which,  as  they  consist  of 

*  We  have  before  made  an  apology  for  this  language,  which  we  here  repeat  for 
the  last  time  ;  though  the  heart  may,  we  hope,  be  metaphorically  used  here  with 
more  propriety,  than  when  we  apply  those  passions  to  the  body,  which  belong  to 
the  soul. 


222  A   JOURNEY  FROM   THIS 

standing  water,  do  at  that  time  emit  odours  greatly  agree- 
able to  a  Dutch  taste  ;  but  not  so  pleasant  to  any  other. 
Those  perfumes,  Avith  the  assistance  of  a  fair  wind,  begin 
to  affect  persons  of  quick  olfactory  nerves  at  a  league's 
distance,  and  increase  gradually  as  you  approach.  In  the 
same  manner,  did  the  smell  I  have  just  mentioned  more 
and  more  invade  us,  till  one  of  the  spirits,  looking  out  of 
the  coach-window,  declared  we  were  just  arrived  at  a  very 
large  city;  and  indeed  he  had  scarce  said  so,  before  we 
found  ourselves  in  the  suburbs,  and  at  tlie  same  time,  the 
coachman  being  asked  by  another,  informed  us,  that  the 
name  of  this  place  was  the  City  of  Diseases.  The  road  to 
it  was  extremely  smooth,  and  excepting  the  above  men- 
tioned savour,  delightfully  pleasant.  The  streets  of  the 
suburbs  were  lined  with  bagnios,  taverns,  and  cooks'- 
shops;  in  the  first  we  saw  several  beautiful  women,  but 
in  tawdry  dresses,  looking  out  at  the  windows ;  and  in  the 
latter  were  visibly  exposed  all  kinds  of  the  richest  dain- 
ties; but  on  our  entering  the  city,  we  found,  contrary  to 
all  we  had  seen  in  the  other  w^orld,  that  the  suburbs  were 
infinitely  pleasanter  than  the  city  itself.  It  was  indeed, 
a  very  dull,  dark,  and  melancholy  place.  Few  people 
appeared  in  the  streets,  and  these,  for  the  most  part,  were 
old  women,  and  here  and  there  a  formal  grave  gentleman, 
who  seemed  to  be  thinking,  with  large  tie-wigs  on,  and 
amber-headed  canes  in  their  hands.  We  were  all  in  hopes, 
that  our  vehicle  would  not  stop  here ;  but,  to  our  sorrow,  the 
coach  soon  drove  into  an  inn,  and  we  were  obliged  to  alight. 


CHAPTEK   III. 

TTie  adventures  we  met  vnth  in  the  City  of  Diseases. 

We  had  not  been  long  arrived  in  our  inn,  where  it  seemg 
we  were  to  spend  the  remainder  of  the  day,  before  our  host 
acquainted  us,  that  it  was  customary  for  all  spirits,  in  their 


WORLD  TO  THE  NEXT,  &c.  223 

passage  through  that  citj,  to  pay  their  respects  to  that  lady 
Disease,  to  whose  assistance  they  had  owed  their  deliver- 
ance from  the  lower  world.  We  answered,  we  should  not 
fail  in  any  complacence  which  was  usual  to  others;  upon 
which  our  host  replied,  he  would  immediately  send  porters 
to  conduct  us.  He  had  not  long  quitted  the  room,  before 
we  were  attended  by  some  of  those  grave  persons,  whom  I 
have  before  described  in  large  tie-wigs  with  amber-headed 
canes.  These  gentlemen  are  the  ticket-porters  in  the  city, 
and  their  canes  are  the  insignia,  or  tickets  denoting  their 
office.  We  informed  them  of  the  several  ladies  to  whom  we 
were  obliged,  and  were  preparing  to  follow  them,  when  on 
a  sudden  they  all  stared  at  one  another,  and  left  us  in  a 
hurry,  with  a  fro"\vn  on  every  countenance.  We  were  sur- 
prised at  this  behaviour  and  presently  summoned  the  host, 
who  was  no  sooner  acquainted  with  it,  than  he  burst  into 
an  hearty  laugh,  and  told  us  the  reason  was,  because  we 
did  not  fee  the  gentlemen  the  moment  they  came  in,  accord- 
ing to  the  custom  of  the  place.  We  answered  with  some 
confusion,  we  had  brought  nothing  with  us  from  the  other 
world,  W'hich  we  had  been  all  our  lives  informed  was  not 
lawful  to  do.  ''  i^o,  no,  master,"  replied  the  host,  "  I  am 
apprised  of  that,  and  indeed  it  w^as  my  fault.  I  should 
have  first  sent  you  to  my  lord*  Scrape;  who  would  have 
supplied  you  with  what  you  want." — "  My  lord  Scrape  sup- 
ply us !  "  said  I,  with  astonishment :  "  Sure  you  must  know 
we  cannot  give  him  security ;  and  I  am  convinced  he  never 
lent  a  shilling  without  it  in  his  life."  "  No,  Sir,"  an- 
swered the  host,  "  and  for  that  reason  he  is  obliged  to  do  it 
here,  where  he  is  sentenced  to  keep  a  bank,  and  to  distribute 
money  gratis  to  all  passengers.  This  bank  originally  con- 
sisted of  just  that  sum,  which  he  had  miserably  hoarded 
up  in  the  other  world,  and  he  is  to  perceive  it  decrease  visi- 
bly one  shilling  a  day,  till  it  is  totally  exhausted;  after 

*  That  we  may  mention  it  once  for  all,  in  the  panegyrical  part  of  this  work, 
some  particular  person  is  always  meant,  but  in  the  satyrical,  nobody. 


224  A   JOURNEY   FROM   THIS 

\\  liicli,  ho  is  to  r(>turn  to  the  other  world,  and  perform  the 
part  of  the  miser  for  seventy  years ;  then  being  purified  in 
the  body  of  a  Hog,  he  is  to  enter  the  human  species  again, 
and  take  a  second  trial."  "  Sir,"  said  I,  "  you  tell  me  won- 
ders: but  if  his  bank  be  to  decrease  only  a  sliilling  a  day, 
how  can  he  furnish  all  passengers?  "  "The  rest,"  answered 
the  host,  "  is  supj>lied  again ;  but  in  a  manner  which  I  can- 
not easily  exphiin  to  you."  "I  apprehend,"  said  I,  "this 
distribution  of  his  money  is  inflicted  on  him  as  a  punish- 
ment ;  but  I  do  not  see  how  it  can  answer  that  end,  when 
he  knows  it  is  to  be  restored  to  him  again.  Would  it  not 
serve  the  purpose  as  well,  if  he  parted  only  with  the  single 
shilling,  which  it  seems  is  all  he  is  really  to  lose  ?  "  "  Sir," 
cries  the  host,  "  When  you  observe  the  agonies  with  which 
he  parts  with  every  guinea,  you  will  be  of  another  opinion. 
!N^o  prisoner  condemned  to  death  ever  begged  so  heartily 
for  transportation,  as  he,  when  he  received  his  sentence 
did,  to  go  to  hell,  provided  he  might  carry  his  money  with 
him.  But  you  will  know  more  of  these  things,  when  you 
arrive  at  the  upper  world ;  and  now,  if  you  please,  I  will 
attend  you  to  my  lord's,  wdio  is  obliged  to  supply  you  with 
whatever  you  desire." 

We  found  his  lordship  sitting  at  the  upper  end  of  a 
table,  on  which  was  an  immense  sum  of  money,  disposed 
in  several  heaps,  every  one  of  which  would  have  purchased 
the  honour  of  some  patriots,  and  the  chastity  of  some 
prudes.  The  moment  he  saw  us,  he  turned  pale,  and 
sighed,  as  well  apprehending  our  business.  Mine  host  ac- 
costed him  with  a  familiar  air,  which  at  first  surprised  me, 
who  so  well  remembered  the  respect  I  had  formerly  seen 
paid  this  lord,  by  men  infinitely  superior  in  quality  to  the 
person  who  now  saluted  him  in  the  following  manner: 
"  Here,  you  lord,  and  be  dam — d  to  your  little  sneaking 
soul,  tell  out  your  money,  and  supply  your  betters  with 
what  they  want.  Be  quick,  sirrah,  or  I'll  fetch  the  beadle 
to  you.     Don't  fancy  yourself  in  the  lower  Avorld  again, 


WORLD  TO  THE  NEXT,  &c.  225 

"with,  jour  privilege  at  your  a — ."  He  then  shook  a  cane 
at  his  lordship,  who  immediately  began  to  tell  out  his 
money,  with,  the  same  miserable  air  and  face  which  the 
miser  on  our  stage  wears,  while  he  delivers  his  bank  bills. 
This  affected  some  of  us  so  much,  that  we  had  certainly 
returned  with  no  more  than  what  would  have  been  sufficient 
to  fee  the  porters,  had  not  our  host,  perceiving  our  compas- 
sion, begged  us  not  to  spare  a  fellow,  who  in  the  midst  of 
immense  wealth  had  always  refused  the  least  contribution 
to  charity.  Our  hearts  were  hardened  with  this  reflection, 
and  we  all  filled  our  pockets  with  his  money.  I  remarked 
a  poetical  spirit  in  particular,  who  swore  he  would  have  a 
hearty  gripe  at  him :  "  For,"  says  he,  "  the  rascal  not  only 
refused  to  subscribe  to  my  works :  but  sent  back  my  letter 
unanswered,  though  I  am  a  better  gentleman  than  him- 
self." 

We  now  returned  from  this  miserable  object,  greatly 
admiring  the  propriety  as  well  as  justice  of  his  punish- 
ment, which  consisted,  as  our  host  informed  us,  merely  in 
the  delivering  forth  his  money ;  and  he  observed  we  could 
not  wonder  at  the  pain  this  gave  him,  since  it  was  as  reason- 
able that  the  bare  parting  with  money  should  make  him 
miserable,  as  that  the  bare  having  money  without  using  it 
should  have  made  him  happy. 

Other  tie-wig-porters  (for  those  we  had  summoned  be- 
fore refused  to  visit  us  again)  now  attended  us;  and  we 
having  fee'd  them  the  instant  they  entered  the  room,  ac- 
cording to  the  instructions  of  our  host,  they  bowed  and 
smiled,  and  offered  to  introduce  us  to  whatever  disease  we 
pleased. 

We  set  out  several  ways,  as  we  were  all  to  pay  our 
respects  to  different  ladies.  I  directed  my  porter  to  show 
me  to  the  Fever  on  the  Spirits,  being  the  disease  which  had 
delivered  me  from  the  flesh.  My  guide  and  I  traversed 
many  streets,  and  knocked  at  several  doors,  but  to  no  pur- 

15 


22G  A   JOURNEY  FROM   THIS 

pose.  At  one  wc  ^vcl'c  told,  livotl  tlio  Consumption;  at  an- 
other, tho  Maladio  Alamodc,  a  French  lady ;  at  the  third, 
the  Dropsy;  at  the  fourth,  the  Rheumatism;  at  the  fifth, 
Intemperance;  at  the  sixth,  Misfortune.  I  was  tired  and 
had  exhausted  my  patience,  and  almost  my  purse;  for  I 
gave  my  porter  a  new  fee  at  eveiy  blunder  he  made :  when 
my  guide,  with  a  solemn  countenance,  told  me,  he  could  do 
no  more;  and  marched  off  without  any  farther  ceremony. 

lie  was  no  sooner  gone,  than  I  met  another  gentleman 
with  a  ticket,  i.  e.,  an  amber-headed  cane  in  his  hand.  I 
first  fee'd  him,  and  then  acquainted  him  with  the  name 
of  tlie  disease.  He  cast  himself  for  two  or  three  minutes 
into  a  thoughtful  posture,  then  pulled  a  piece  of  paper  out 
of  his  pocket,  on  which  he  writ  something  in  one  of  the 
oriental  languages,  I  believe;  for  I  could  not  read  a  sylla- 
ble :  he  bade  me  carry  it  to  such  a  particular  shop,  and 
telling  me  it  would  do  my  business,  he  took  his  leave. 

Secure,  as  I  now  thought  myself  of  my  direction,  I  went 
to  the  shop,  which  veiy  much  resembled  an  apothecary's. 
The  person  who  officiated,  having  read  the  paper,  took 
do^\Ti  about  twenty  different  jars,  and  pouring  something 
out  of  every  one  of  them  made  a  mixture,  Avhich  he  deliv- 
ered to  me  in  a  bottle,  having  first  tied  a  paper  round  the 
neck  of  it,  on  which  were  written  three  or  four  words,  the 
last  containing  eleven  sj'llables.  I  mentioned  the  name  of 
the  disease  I  wanted  to  find  out ;  but  received  no  other  an- 
swer, than  that  he  had  done  as  he  was  ordered,  and  the 
drugs  were  excellent. 

I  began  now  to  be  enraged,  and  quitting  the  shop  with 
some  anger  in  my  countenance,  I  intended  to  find  out  my 
inn :  but  meeting  in  the  way  a  porter,  whose  countenance 
had  in  it  something  more  pleasing  than  ordinary,  I  re- 
solved to  try  onc<3  more,  and  clapp'd  a  foe  into  his  hand.  As 
soon  as  I  mentioned  the  disease  to  him,  he  laughed  heart- 
ily, and  told  me  I  had  been  imposed  on,  for  in  reality  no 
such  disease  was  to  be  found  in  that  city.     He  then  en- 


^VOELD  TO  THE  NEXT,  &c.  227 

quired  into  tlie  particulars  of  my  case,  and  was  no  sooner 
acquainted  with  tliem,  than  he  informed  me  that  the  Mala- 
die  Alamode  was  the  lady  to  whom  I  was  obliged.  I 
thanked  him,  and  immediately  went  to  pay  my  respects  to 
her. 

The  house,  or  rather  palace,  of  this  lady,  was  one  of  the 
most  beautiful  and  magnificent  in  the  city.  The  avenue 
to  it  was  planted  with  sycamore  trees,  with  beds  of  flowers 
on  each  side;  it  was  extremely  pleasant,  but  short,  I  was 
conducted  through  a  magnificent  hall,  adorned  with  several 
statues  and  bustoes,  most  of  them  maimed,  whence  I  con- 
cluded them  all  to  be  true  antique ;  but  was  informed  they 
were  the  figures  of  several  modem  heroes,  who  had  died 
martyrs  to  her  ladyship's  cause.  I  next  mounted  through 
a  large  painted  staircase,  where  several  persons  were  depic- 
tured in  caricatura ;  and,  upon  enquiry,  was  told  they  were 
the  portraits  of  those  who  had  distinguished  themselves 
against  the  lady  in  the  lower  world.  I  suppose  I  should 
have  known  the  faces  of  many  physicians  and  surgeons, 
had  they  not  been  so  violently  distorted  by  the  painter. 
Indeed,  he  had  exerted  so  much  malice  in  his  work,  that  I 
believe  he  had  himself  received  some  particular  favors 
from  the  lady  of  this  mansion :  It  is  difiicult  to  conceive 
a  group  of  stranger  figures.  I  then  entered  a  long  room, 
hung  round  vrith  the  pictures  of  women  of  such  exact 
shapes  and  features,  that  I  should  have  thought  myself  in 
a  gallery  of  beauties,  had  not  a  certain  sallow  paleness  in 
their  complexions  given  me  a  more  distasteful  idea. 
Through  this,  I  proceeded  to  a  second  apartment,  adorned, 
if  I  may  so  call  it,  with  the  figures  of  old  ladies.  Upon 
my  seeming  to  admire  at  this  furniture,  the  servant  told  me 
with  a  smile,  that  these  had  been  very  good  friends  of  his 
lady,  and  had  done  her  eminent  service  in  the  lower  world. 
I  immediately  recollected  the  faces  of  one  or  two  of  my 
acquaintance,  who  had  formerly  kept  bagnios :  but  was  very 
much  surprised  to  see  the  resemblance  of  a  lady  of  great 


22S  A   JUUnXEY   FROM    THIS 

distinction  in  such  company.  The  .servant,  upon  my  men- 
tioning this,  made  no  other  answer,  than  that  hi.s  hidy  had 
pieturcti  of  all  degrees. 

I  was  now  introduced  into  the  presence  of  thb  lady  her- 
self. She  was  a  thin,  or  rather  meager  person,  very  wan 
in  the  countenance,  had  no  nose,  and  many  ])imples  in  her 
face.  She  offered  to  rise  at  my  entrance,  but  could  not 
stand.  After  many  compliments,  much  congratulation  on 
her  side,  and  the  most  fervent  expressions  of  gratitude  on 
mine,  she  asked  me  many  questions  concerning  the  situa- 
tion of  her  affairs  in  the  lower  world ;  most  of  which  I  an- 
swered to  her  entire  satisfaction.  At  last  with  a  kind  of 
forced  smile,  she  said,  I  suppose  the  Pill  and  Drop  go  on 
swimmingly.  I  told  her,  they  were  reported  to  have  done 
great  cures.  She  replied,  she  could  apprehend  no  danger 
from  any  person,  who  was  not  of  regular  practice :  for 
however  simple  mankind  are,  said  she,  or  however  afraid 
they  are  of  death,  they  prefer  dying  in  a  regular  manner 
to  being  cured  by  a  nostrimi.  She  then  expressed  great 
pleasure  at  the  account  I  gave  her  of  the  beau-monde.  She 
said,  she  had,  herself,  removed  the  hundreds  of  Drury  to 
the  hundreds  of  Charingcross,  and  was  very  much  delighted 
to  find  they  had  spread  into  St.  James's ;  that  she  imputed 
this  chiefly  to  several  of  her  dear  and  worthy  friends,  who 
had  lately  published  their  excellent  works,  endeavoring  to 
extirpate  all  notions  of  religion  and  virtue ;  and  particular- 
ly to  the  deserving  author  of  the  Bachelor's  Estimate,  to 
whom,  said  she,  if  I  had  not  reason  to  think  he  was  a  sur- 
geon, and  had  therefore  written  from  mercenary  views,  I 
could  never  sufficiently  own  my  obligations.  She  spoke 
likewise  greatly  in  approbation  of  the  method  so  generally 
used  by  parents,  of  marrying  children  very  young,  and 
without  the  least  affection  between  the  parties;  and  con- 
cluded by  saying,  that  if  these  fashions  continued  to  spread, 
she  doubted  not  but  she  should  shortly  be  the  only  disease 


^yORLD  TO  THE  NEXT,  &c.  229 

-who  would  ever  receive  a  visit  from  any  person  of  consid- 
erable rank. 

While  we  were  discoursing,  her  three  daughters  entered 
the  room.  They  were  all  called  by  hard  names,  the  eldest 
was  named  *  Lepra,  the  second  Chseras,  and  the  third  Scor- 
butia.  They  were  all  genteel,  but  ugly.  I  could  not  help 
observing  the  little  respect  they  paid  their  parent;  which 
the  old  lady  remarking  in  my  countenance,  as  soon  as  they 
quitted  the  room,  which  soon  happened,  acquainted  me 
with  her  unhappiness  in  her  offspring,  every  one  of  which 
had  the  confidence  to  deny  themselves  to  be  her  children, 
though  she  said  she  had  been  a  very  indulgent  mother,  and 
had  plentifully  provided  for  them  all.  As  family  com- 
plaints generally  as  much  tire  the  hearer  as  they  relieve 
him  who  makes  them,  when  I  found  her  launching  farther 
into  this  subject,  I  resolved  to  put  an  end  to  my  visit;  and 
taking  my  leave,  with  many  thanks  for  the  favour  she  had 
done  me,  I  returned  to  the  inn,  where  I  found  my  fellow 
travelers  just  mounting  into  their  vehicle.  I  shook  hands 
with  my  host,  and  accompanied  them  into  the  coach,  which 
immediately  after  proceeded  on  its  journey. 


CHAPTEK  IV. 
Discourses  on  the  road,  and  a  description  of  the  palace  of  death. 

We  were  all  silent  for  some  minutes,  till  being  well 
shaken  into  our  several  seats,  I  opened  my  mouth  first,  and 
related  what  had  happened  to  me  after  our  separation  in 
the  city  we  had  just  left.  The  rest  of  the  company,  except 
the  grave  female  spirit,  whom  our  reader  may  remember 
to  have  refused  giving  an  account  of  the  distemper  whicH 
occasioned  her  dissolution,  did  the  same.  It  might  be 
tedious  to  relate  these  at  large,  we  shall,  therefore,  only 
mention  a  very  remarkable  inveteracy,  which  the  Surfeit 
declared  to  all  the  other  diseases,  especially  to  the  Fever, 

*  These  ladies,  I  believe,  by  their  names,  presided  over  the  leprosy,  king''s-evil, 
and  scurvy. 


230  A   JOURNEY  FROM   THIS 

who,  she  said,  by  tlie  roguoiy  of  the  porters,  received  ac- 
knowlcdgiiient.s  from  numberless  passengers  which  were  due 
to  herself.  "  Indeed,"  says  she,  "  those  cane-headed  fel- 
lows," for  so  she  called  thom,  alluding,  I  suppose,  to  their 
ticket,  "  are  constantly  making  such  mistakes ;  there  is  no 
gratitude  in  those  fellows ;  for  I  am  sure  they  have  greater 
obligations  to  me,  than  to  any  other  disease,  except  the 
Vapours."  These  relations  were  no  sooner  over,  than  one  of 
the  company  informed  us,  we  were  approaching  to  the  most 
noble  building  he  had  ever  beheld,  and  which  we  learnt 
from  our  coachman,  Avas  the  palace  of  Death.  Its  outside, 
indeed,  appeared  extremely  magnificent.  Its  structure  was 
of  the  Gothic  order:  vast  beyond  imagination,  the  whole 
pile  consisting  of  black  marble.  Rows  of  immense  yews 
form  an  amphitheater  round  it  of  such  height  and  thick- 
ness, that  no  ray  of  the  sun  ever  perforates  this  grove; 
where  black  eternal  darkness  would  reign,  was  it  not 
excluded  by  innumerable  lamps,  which  are  placed  in  pyra- 
mids, round  the  grove.  So  that  the  distant  reflection  they 
cast  on  the  palace,  which  is  plentifully  gilt  with  gold  on 
the  outside,  is  inconceivably  solemn.  To  this  I  may  add, 
the  hollow  murmur  of  winds,  constantly  heard  from  the 
grove,  and  the  very  remote  sound  of  roaring  waters.  In- 
deed, eveiy  circumstance  seems  to  conspire  to  fill  the  mind 
with  horror  and  consternation  as  we  approached  to  this  pal- 
ace ;  which  we  had  scarce  time  to  admire,  before  our  vehicle 
stopped  at  the  gate,  and  we  were  desired  to  alight,  in  order 
to  pay  our  respects  to  his  most  mortal  majesty  (this  being 
the  title  which  it  seems  he  assumes).  The  outward  court 
was  full  of  soldiers,  and,  indeed,  the  whole  very  much 
resembled  the  state  of  an  earthly  monarch,  only  more  mag- 
nificent We  passed  through  several  courts,  into  a  vast  hall, 
which  led  to  a  spacious  staircase,  at  the  bottom  of  which 
stood  two  pages,  with  very  grave  countenances;  whom  I 
recollected  afterwards  to  have  formerly  been  very  eminent 
undertakers,  and  were  in  reality  the  only  dismal  faces  I 


WORLD  TO  THE  NEXT,  &c.  231 

saw  here:  for  this  palace,  so  awful  and  tremendous  with- 
out, is  all  gay  and  sprightly  within,  so  that  we  soon  lost  all 
those  dismal  and  gloomy  ideas  we  had  contracted  in  ap- 
proaching it.  Indeed,  the  still  silence  maintained  among 
the  guards  and  attendants  resembled  rather  the  stately 
pomp  of  eastern  courts ;  but  there  was  on  every  face  such 
symptoms  of  content  and  happiness,  that  diffused  an  air  of 
cheerfulness  all  round.  We  ascended  the  staircase,  and 
passed  through  many  noble  apartments,  whose  walls  were 
adorned  with  various  battle-pieces  in  tapestry,  and  which 
we  spent  some  time  in  observing.  These  brought  to  my 
mind  those  beautiful  ones  I  had  in  my  lifetime  seen  at 
Blenheim,  nor  could  I  prevent  my  curiosity  from  enquir- 
ing where  the  duke  of  Marlborough's  victorieswere  placed : 
(for  I  think  they  were  almost  the  only  battles  of  any 
eminence  I  had  read  of,  which  I  did  not  meet  with:)  when 
the  skeleton  of  a  beef-eater,  shaking  his  head,  told  me  a 
certain  gentleman,  one  Lewis  XIYth,  who  had  great  inter- 
est with  his  most  mortal  majesty,  had  prevented  any  such 
from  being  hung  up  there ;  besides,  says  he,  his  majesty 
hath  no  great  respect  for  that  duke,  for  he  never  sent  him 
a  subject  he  could  not  keep  from  him,  nor  did  he  ever  get  a 
single  subject  by  his  means,  but  he  lost  1000  others  for 
him.  We  found  the  presence  chamber,  at  our  entrance, 
very  full,  and  a  buzz  ran  through  it,  as  in  all  assemblies, 
before  the  principal  figure  enters ;  for  his  majesty  was  not 
yet  come  out.  At  the  bottom  of  the  room  were  two  persona 
in  close  conference,  one  with  a  square  black  cap  on  his 
head,  and  the  other  with  a  robe  embroidered  with  flames  of 
fire.  These,  I  was  informed,  were  a  judge  long  since  dead, 
and  an  inquisitor-general.  I  overheard  them  disputing 
with  great  eagerness,  whether  the  one  had  hanged,  or  the 
other  burnt  the  most.  T^^iile  I  was  listening  to  this  dispute, 
which  seemed  to  be  in  no  likelihood  of  a  speedy  decision, 
the  emperor  entered  the  room,  and  placed  himself  between 
two  figures,  one  of  which  was  remarkable  for  the  rough- 


232  A   JOURNEY  FROM   THIS 

ness,  and  the  other  for  the  beauty  of  his  appearance.  These 
were,  it  seems,  Charles  the  Xllth  of  Sweden,  and  Alexan- 
der of  Macedon.  I  was  at  too  groat  a  distance  to  hear  any 
of  tlic  conversation,  so  could  only  satisfy  my  curiosity  by 
contemplating  the  several  personages  present,  of  whose 
names  I  informed  myself  by  a  page,  who  looked  as  pale 
and  meager  as  any  court-page  in  the  other  world,  but  was 
somewhat  more  modest.  He  showed  me  here  two  or  three 
Turkish  emperors,  to  whom  his  most  mortal  majesty 
seemed  to  express  much  civility.  Here  were  likewise  several 
of  the  Roman  emperors,  among  whom  none  seemed  so  mucn 
caressed  as  Caligula,  on  account,  as  the  page  told  me,  of  his 
pious  wish,  that  he  could  send  all  the  Romans  hither  at  one 
blow,  the  reader  may  be  perhaps  surprised,  that  I  saw  no 
physicians  here ;  as  indeed  I  was  myself,  till  informed  that 
they  w'ere  all  departed  to  the  city  of  Diseases,  where  they 
were  busy  in  an  experiment  to  purge  aw^ay  the  immortality 
of  the  soul. 

It  would  be  tedious  to  recollect  the  many  individuals  I 
saw  here,  but  I  cannot  omit  a  fat  figure,  well  dressed  in 
the  French  fashion,  who  was  received  with  extraordinary 
complacence  by  the  emperor,  and  whom  I  imagined  to  be 
Lewis  the  XI Vth  himself ;  but  the  page  acquainted  me  he 
was  a  celebrated  French  cook. 

\Ye  were  at  length  introduced  to  the  royal  presence,  and 
had  the  honour  to  kiss  hands.  His  majesty  asked  us  a  few 
questions,  not  very  material  to  relate,  and  soon  after  re- 
tired. 

When  we  returned  into  the  yard,  we  found  our  caravan 
ready  to  set  out,  at  which  we  all  declared  ourselves  well 
pleased ;  for  we  were  sufficiently  tired  with  the  formality 
of  a  court,  notwithstanding  its  outward  splendor  and  mag- 
nificence. 


WORLD  TO  TEE  NEXT,  &c.  233 


CHAPTEE  V. 

The  travelers  proceed  on  their  journey,  and  meet  several  spirits, 
who  are  coming  into  the  flesh. 

We  now  came  to  the  banks  of  the  great  river  Cocytus, 
where  we  quitted  our  vehicle,  and  passed  the  water  in  a 
boat,  after  which  we  were  obliged  to  travel  on  foot  the  rest 
of  our  journey;  and  now  we  met  for  the  first  time,  several 
passengers  traveling  to  the  world  we  had  left,  who  in- 
formed us  they  were  souls  going  into  the  flesh. 

The  two  first  we  met  were  walking  arm  in  arm  in  very 
close  and  friendly  conference;  they  informed  us,  that  one 
of  them  was  intended  for  a  duke,  and  the  other  for  a  hack- 
ney coachman.  As  we  had  not  yet  arrived  at  the  place 
where  we  were  to  deposit  our  passions,  we  were  all  sur- 
prised at  the  familiarity  which  subsisted  between  persons 
of  such  different  degrees;  nor  could  the  grave  lady  help 
expressing  her  astonishment  at  it.  The  future  coachman 
then  replied  with  a  laugh,  that  they  had  exchanged  lots :  for 
that  the  duke  had  with  his  dukedom  dra"v\Ti  a  shrew  of  a 
wife,  and  the  coachman  only  a  single  state. 

As  we  proceeded  on  our  journey,  we  met  a  solemn  spirit 
walking  alone  with  great  gravity  in  his  countenance :  our 
curiosity  invited  us  notwithstanding  his  reserve,  to  ask 
what  lot  he  had  drawn.  He  answered  with  a  smile,  he  was 
to  have  the  reputation  of  a  wise  man  with  £100,000  in  his 
pocket,  and  that  he  was  practising  the  solemnity  which  he 
was  to  act  in  the  other  world. 

A  little  farther  we  met  a  company  of  very  merry  spirits, 
whom  we  imagined  by  their  mirth  to  have  drawn  some 
mighty  lot,  but,  on  enquiry,  they  informed  us  they  were  to 
be  beggars. 

The  farther  we  advanced,  the  greater  numbers  we  met ; 
and  now  we  discovered  two  large  roads  leading  different 


234  A   JOURNEY  FROM   THIS 

ways,  and  of  very  different  appearance;  the  one  all  craggy 
with  rocks,  full  as  it  seemed  of  boggy  grounds,  and  every- 
where beset  with  briars,  so  tliat  it  was  impossible  to  pas3 
through  it  without  the  utmost  danger  and  dithculty;  the 
other,  the  most  delightful  imaginable,  leading  through  the 
most  verdant  meadows,  painted  and  perfumed  with  all 
kinds  of  beautiful  flowers ;  in  short,  the  most  wanton  ima- 
gination could  imagine  nothing  more  lovely.  Notwithstand- 
ing which  we  were  surprised  to  see  great  numbers  crowd 
ing  into  the  former,  and  only  one  or  two  solitary  spirits 
choosing  the  latter.  On  enquiry  we  were  acquainted  that 
the  bad  road  was  the  way  to  Greatness,  and  the  other  to 
Goodness,  ^^^len  we  expressed  our  surprise  at  the  prefer- 
ence given  to  the  former,  we  were  acquainted  that  it  was 
chosen  for  the  sake  of  the  music  of  drums  and  trumpets, 
and  the  perpetual  acclamations  of  the  mob,  with  which 
those  who  traveled  this  way  were  constantly  saluted.  We 
were  told  likewise,  that  there  were  several  noble  palaces  to 
be  seen,  and  lodged  in,  on  this  road,  by  those  who  had  past 
through  the  difficulties  of  it  (which  indeed  many  were 
not  able  to  surmount),  and  great  quantities  of  all  sorts  of 
treasure  to  be  found  in  it ;  whereas  the  other  had  little  in- 
viting more  than  the  beauty  of  the  way,  scarce  a  handsome 
building,  save  one  greatly  resembling  a  certain  house  by 
the  Bath,  to  be  seen  during  that  whole  journey ;  and  lastly, 
that  it  was  thought  very  scandalous  and  mean-spirited  to 
travel  through  this,  and  as  highly  honourable  and  noble  to 
pass  by  the  other. 

We  now  heard  a  violent  noise,  when  casting  our  eyes 
forwards,  we  perceived  a  vast  number  of  spirits  advancing 
in  pursuit  of  one,  whom  they  mocked  and  insulted  with  all 
kinds  of  scorn.  I  cannot  give  my  reader  a  more  adequate 
idea  of  this  scene,  than  by  comparing  it  to  an  English 
mob  conducting  a  pickpocket  to  the  wat<"r ;  or  by  supposing 
that  an  incensed  audience  at  a  playhouse  had  unhappily 
possessed  themselves  of  the  miserable  damned  poet.    Some 


WORLD  TO  THE  NEXT,  &c.  235 

laughed,  some  hissed,  some  squawled,  some  groaned,  some 
bawled,  some  spit  at  him,  some  threw  dirt  at  him.  It  was 
impossible  not  to  ask  who  or  what  the  wretched  spirit  was, 
whom  they  treated  in  this  barbarous  manner ;  when  to  our 
great  surprise,  we  were  informed  that  it  was  a  king:  we 
were  likewise  told  that  this  manner  of  behaviour  was  usual 
among  the  spirits  to  those  who  drew  the  lots  of  emperors, 
kings,  and  other  great  men,  not  from  envy  or  anger,  but 
mere  derision  and  contempt  of  earthly  grandeur :  that 
nothing  was  more  common,  than  for  those  who  had  drawn 
these  great  prizes  (as  to  us  they  seemed)  to  exchange  them 
with  tailors  and  cobblers ;  and  that  Alexander  the  Great, 
and  Diogenes,  had  formerly  done  so ;  he  that  was  after- 
wards Diogenes  having  originally  fallen  on  the  lot  of  Alex- 
ander. 

And  now,  on  a  sudden,  the  mockery  ceased,  and  the  king 
spirit  having  obtained  a  hearing,  began  to  speak  as  follows : 
for  we  were  now  near  enough  to  hear  him  distinctly. 

"  Ge^^tlemen  :  I  am  justly  surprised  at  your  treating 
me  in  this  manner ;  since  whatever  lot  I  have  drawn,  I  did 
not  choose :  if  therefore  it  be  worthy  of  derision,  you  should 
compassionate  me,  for  it  might  have  fallen  to  any  of  your 
shares.  I  know  in  how  low  a  light  the  station  to  which  fate 
hath  assigned  me  is  considered  here,  and  that  when  ambi- 
tion doth  not  support  it,  it  becomes  generally  so  intolerable, 
that  there  is  scarce  any  other  condition  for  which  it  is  not 
gladly  exchanged:  for  what  portion,  in  the  world  to 
which  w^e  are  going,  is  so  miserable  as  that  of  care  ? 
Should  I  therefore  consider  myself  as  become  by  this  lot 
essentially  your  superior,  and  of  a  higher  order  of  being 
than  the  rest  of  my  fellow-creatures:  should  I  foolishly 
imagine  myself  without  wisdom  superior  to  the  wise,  with- 
out knowledge  to  the  learned,  without  courage  to  the  brave, 
and  without  goodness  and  virtue  to  the  good  and  virtuous ; 
surely  so  preposterous,  so  absurd  a  pride,  would  justly 
render  me  the  object  of  ridicule.    But  far  be  it  from  me  to 


23G  'A   JOUENEY  FROM    THIS 

entertain  it.  And  yet,  gentlemen,  I  prize  the  lot  I  have 
drawn,  nor  would  I  exchange  it  with  any  of  yours,  seeing 
it  is  in  my  eye  so  much  greater  than  the  rest.  Ambition, 
which  I  own  myself  possest  of,  teaches  me  this ;  Ambition, 
which  makes  me  covet  praise,  assures  me,  that  I  shall  enjoy 
a  much  larger  portion  of  it  than  can  fall  within  your  power 
either  to  deserve  or  obtain.  I  am  then  superior  to  you  all, 
when  I  am  able  to  do  more  good,  and  when  I  execute  that 
power.  "What  the  father  is  to  the  son,  the  guardian  to  the 
orphan,  or  the  patron  to  his  client,  that  am  I  to  you.  You 
are  my  children,  to  whom  I  will  be  a  father,  a  guardian, 
and  a  patron.  Not  one  evening  in  my  long  reign  (for  so 
it  is  to  be)  will  I  repose  myself  to  rest,  without  the  glori- 
ous, the  heart-warming  consideration,  that  thousands  that 
night  owe  their  sweetest  rest  to  me.  What  a  delicious  for- 
tune is  it  to  him,  whoso  strongest  appetite  is  doing  good,  to 
have  every  day  the  opportunity  and  tlie  power  of  satisfying 
it !  If  sucli  a  man  hath  ambition,  how  happy  is  it  for  him 
to  be  seated  so  on  high,  that  every  act  blazes  abroad,  and 
attracts  to  him  praises  tainted  with  neither  sarcasm  nor 
adulation ;  but  such  as  the  nicest  and  most  delicate  mind 
may  relish  ?  Thus  therefore,  w^iile  you  derive  your  good 
from  me,  I  am  your  superior.  If  to  my  strict  distribution 
of  justice  you  owe  the  safety  of  your  property  from  domes- 
tic enemie?,  if  by  my  vigilance  and  valour  you  are  pro- 
tected from  foreign  foes :  if  by  my  encouragement  of  genu- 
ine industry,  every  science,  every  art  which  can  embellish 
or  sweeten  life,  is  produced  and  flourishes  among  you ;  will 
any  of  you  be  so  insensible  or  ungrateful,  as  to  deny  praise 
and  respect  to  him,  by  whose  care  and  conduct  you  enjoy 
these  blessings  ?  I  wonder  not  at  the  censure  which  so  fre- 
quently falls  on  those  in  my  station:  but  I  wonder  that 
those  in  my  station  so  frequently  deserve  it.  Wliat  strange 
perverseness  of  nature !  WTiat  wanton  delight  in  mischief 
must  taint  his  composition,  who  prefers  dangers,  difficulty 
and  disgrace,  by  doing  evil,  to  safety,  ease,  and  honour,  by; 


WORLD  TO  THE  NEXT,  £c.  237 

doing  good?  Who  refuses  happiness  in  the  other  world, 
and  heaven  in  this,  for  misery  there,  and  hell  here  ?  But 
be  assured,  my  intentions  are  different.  I  shall  always  en- 
deavor the  ease,  the  hapj^iness,  and  the  glory  of  my  peo- 
ple, being  confident  that,  by  so  doing,  I  take  the  most  cer- 
tain method  of  procuring  them  all  to  myself." — He  then 
struck  directly  into  the  road  of  goodness,  and  received  such 
a  shout  of  applause,  as  I  never  remember  to  have  heard 
equaled. 

He  was  gone  a  little  way,  when  a  spirit  limped  after 
him,  swearing  he  would  fetch  him  back.  This  spirit,  I  was 
presently  informed,  was  one  who  had  drawn  the  lot  of  hia 
prime  minister. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

An  account  of  the  wheel  of  Fortune,   with  a  method  of  preparing 
a  spirit  for  this  world. 

We  now  proceeded  on  our  journey,  without  staying  to 
see  whether  he  fulfilled  his  word  or  no;  and  without  en- 
countering anything  worth  mentioning,  came  to  the  place 
where  the  spirits  on  their  passage  to  the  other  world  were 
obliged  to  decide  by  lot  the  station  in  which  every  one  was 
to  act  there.  Here  was  a  monstrous  wheel,  infinitely  larger 
than  those  in  which  I  had  formerly  seen  lottery  tickets 
deposited.  This  was  called  the  Wheel  of  Foktune.  The 
goddess  herself  was  present.  She  was  one  of  the  most 
deformed  females  I  ever  behold ;  nor  could  I  help  observ- 
ing the  frowns  she  expressed  when  any  beautiful  spirit  of 
her  own  sex  passed  by  her,  nor  the  affability  which  smiled 
in  her  countenance  on  the  approach  of  any  handsome  male 
spirits.  Hence  I  accounted  for  the  truth  of  an  observation 
I  had  often  made  on  earth,  that  nothing  is  more  fortunate 
than  handsome  men,  nor  more  unfortunate  than  handsome 


238  A   JOURNEY  FROM   THIS 

women.  The  reader  may  be  perhaps  })leased  with  an  ac- 
count of  the  whole  method  oi  equipping  a  spirit  for  his 
entrance  into  the  flesh. 

First  then,  ho  receives  from  a  very  sage  ])erson,  whose 
look  much  resembled  that  of  an  apothecary  (his  warehouse 
likewise  bearinin:  an  alHnity  to  an  ajjothecary's  shop),  a 
small  phial  inscribed,  The  Patjietic  Potion^  to  be  taken 
just  before  you  are  born.  This  potion  is  a  mixture  of  all 
the  passions,  but  in  no  exact  proportion,  so  that  sometimes 
one  predominates  and  sometimes  another ;  nay,  often  in  the 
hurry  of  making  up,  one  particular  ingredient  is,  as  we 
were  informed,  left  out.  The  spirit  receiveth  at  the  same 
time  another  medicine  called  the  ISTouspiigkic  Decoctiox, 
of  which  he  is  to  drink  ad  libitum.  This  decoction  is  an 
extract  from  the  faculties  of  the  mind,  sometimes  extreme- 
ly strong  and  spirituous,  and  sometimes  altogether  as 
weak :  for  very  little  care  is  taken  in  the  preparation.  This 
decoction  is  so  extremely  bitter  and  unpleasant,  that  not- 
withstanding its  wholesomeness,  several  spirits  will  not  be 
persuaded  to  swallow  a  drop  of  it;  but  throw  it  away,  or 
give  it  to  any  other  who  Avill  receive  it :  by  which  means 
some  who  were  not  disgusted  by  the  nauseousncss,  drank 
double  and  treble  potions.  I  observed  a  beautiful  young 
female,  who  tasting  it,  immediately  from  curiosity,  screwed 
up  her  face  and  cast  it  from  her  with  great  disdain,  whence 
advancing  presently  to  the  wheel,  she  drew  a  coronet,  which 
she  clapped  up  so  eagerly,  that  I  could  not  distinguish  the 
degree;  and  indeed,  I  observed  several  of  the  same  sex, 
after  a   very  small  sip,  throw  the  bottles  away. 

As  soon  as  the  spirit  is  dismissed  by  the  operator,  or 
apothecary,  he  is  at  liberty  to  approach  the  wheel,  where  he 
hath  a  right  to  extract  a  single  lot:  but  those  whom  fortune 
favors,  she  permits  sometimes  secretly  to  draw  three  or 
four.  I  observed  a  comical  kind  of  figure  who  drew  forth 
a  handful,  which,  when  he  opened,  were  a  bishop,  a  gen- 
eral, a  privy-counsellor,  a  player,  and  a  poet  laureate,  and 


WORLD  TO  TEE  NEXT,  &c. 


239 


returning  the  tliree  first,  he  walked  off  smiling  with  the 
two  last. 

Every  single  lot  contained  two  more  articles,  which  were 
generally  disposed  so  as  to  render  the  lots  as  equal  as  pos- 
sible to  each  other. 

Earl, 

Riches, 

Health, 

Disquietude. 

Cohhler, 

Sickness, 

Good-humour. 

Poet, 

Contempt, 

Self-satisfaction. 

General, 

Honor, 

Discontent. 

Cottage, 

Happy  love. 

Coach  and  six. 

Impotent  jealous  hushand. 

Prime-minister, 

Disgrace. 

Patriot, 

Glory. 

Philosopher, 

Poverty, 

Ease. 

Merchant, 

Riclies, 

Care. 

And  indeed  the  whole  seemed  to  contain  such  a  mixture 

of  good  and  evil,  that  it  would  have  puzzled  me  which  to 

choose.    I  must  not  omit  here,  that  in  every  lot  was  directed 

whether  the  drawer  should  marry  or  remain  in  celibacy, 


On  one  was  written, 

On  another 

On  a  Third, 

On  a  Fourth, 

On  a  Fifth", 

On  a  Sixth, 

On  a  Seventh, 

On  an  Eighth, 

On  a  Ninth, 

On  a  Tenth, 


240  A   JOURNEY   FROM   THIS 

the  married  lots  being  all  marked  with  a  large  pair  of 
horns. 

We  were  obliged,  before  wo  quitted  this  place,  to  take 
each  of  us  au  emetic  from  the  aputhecary,  which  immedi- 
ately purged  us  of  all  our  eartldy  passions,  and  presently 
the  cloud  forsook  our  eyes  as  it  doth  those  of  xEneas  in 
Virgil  when  removed  by  Venus;  and  we  discerned  things 
in  a  much  clearer  light  than  before.  We  began  to  compas- 
sionate those  spirits  who  were  making  their  entry  into  the 
flesh,  whom  we  had  till  then  secretly  envied,  and  to  long 
eagerly  for  those  delightful  plains  which  now  opened  them- 
selves to  our  eyes,  and  to  which  we  now  hastened  with  the 
utmost  eagerness.  On  our  way  w^e  met  with  several  spirits 
with  very  dejected  countenances ;  but  our  expedition  would 
not  suffer  us  to  ask  any  questions. 

At  length,  we  arrived  at  the  gate  of  Elysium.  Here  was 
a  prodigious  crowd  of  spirits  waiting  for  admittance,  some 
of  w^honi  were  admitted,  and  some  were  rejected ;  for  all 
were  strictly  examined  by  the  porter,  whom  I  soon  discov- 
ered to  be  the  celebrated  judge  Minos. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

77ie  proceedings  of  Judge  Minos,  at  the  gate  of  Elysium. 

I  NOW  got  near  enough  to  the  gate,  to  hear  the  several 
claims  of  those  who  endeavoured  to  pass.  The  first,  among 
other  pretensions,  set  forth,  that  he  had  been  very  liberal 
to  an  hospital;  but  Minos  answered,  Ostentation,  and  re- 
pulsed him.  The  second  exhibited,  that  he  had  constantly 
frequented  his  church,  been  a  rigid  observer  of  fast-days. 
He  likewise  represented  the  great  animosity  he  had  shown 
to  vice  in  others,  which  never  escaped  his  severest  censure; 
and,  as  to  his  own  behaviour,  he  had  never  been  once  guilty 
of  whoring,  drinking,  gluttony,  or  any  other  excess.     He 


^¥ORLD  TO  THE  NEXT,  &c.              241 
said,  he  liad  disinherited  his  son  for  getting  a  bastard 


"Have  you  so,"  said  Minos,  "then  pray  return  into  the  other 
world  and  beget  another ;  for  such  an  unnatural  rascal  shall 
never  pass  this  gate."  A  dozen  others,  who  had  advanced 
with  very  confident  countenances,  seeing  him  rejected, 
turned  about  of  their  own  accord,  declaring,  if  he  could  not 
pass,  they  had  no  expectation,  and  accordingly  they  fol- 
lowed him  back  to  earth;  which  was  the  fate  of  all  who 
were  repulsed,  they  being  obliged  to  take  a  further  purifi- 
cation, unless  those  who  were  guilty  of  some  very  heinous 
crimes,  who  were  hustled  in  at  a  little  back  gate,  whencG 
they  tumbled  immediately  into  the  bottomless  pit. 

The  next  spirit  that  came  up,  declared  he  had  done  nei- 
ther good  nor  evil  in  the  world ;  for  that  since  his  arrival  at 
man's  estate,  he  had  spent  his  whole  time  in  search  of  curi- 
osities; and  particularly  in  the  study  of  butterflies,  of 
which  he  had  collected  an  immense  number.  Minos  made 
him  no  answer,  but  with  great  scorn  pushed  him  back. 

There  now  advanced  a  very  beautiful  spirit  indeed.  She 
began  to  ogle  Minos  the  moment  she  saw  him.  She  said, 
she  hoped  there  were  some  merit  in  refusing  a  great  num- 
ber of  lovers,  and  dying  a  maid,  though  she  had  had  the 
choice  of  a  hundred.  Minos  told  her,  she  had  not  refused 
enow  yet,  and  turned  her  back. 

She  was  succeeded  by  a  spirit,  who  told  the  judge  he  be- 
lieved his  works  would  speak  for  him.  "  What  works  ?  "  an- 
swered Minos.  "My  dramatic  works,"  replied  the  other, 
"  which  have  done  so  much  good  in  recommending  virtue 
and  punishing  vice." — "Very  well,"  said  the  judge,  "if  you 
j)lease  to  stand  by,  the  first  person  who  passes  the  gate,  by 
your  means,  shall  carry  you  in  with  him :  but  if  you  will 
take  my  advice,  I  think,  for  expedition  sake,  you  had  better 
return,  and  live  another  life  upon  earth."  The  bard  grum- 
bled at  this,  and  replied,  that  besides  his  poetical  works,  he 
had  done  some  other  good  things :  for  that  he  had  once  lent 
the  whole  profits  of  a  benefit  night  to  a  friend,  and  by  that 
10 


242  'A   JOURNEY  FROM  THIS 

means  had  saved  him,  nnd  his  family  from  destruction. 
Upon  this,  the  gate  flew  open,  and  Minos  desired  him  to 
walk  in,  telling  him,  if  he  had  mentioned  this  at  first  he' 
might  have  spared  the  remembrance  of  his  plays.  The  poet 
answered,  he  believed,  if  Minos  had  read  his  works, he  would 
set  a  higher  value  on  them.  lie  was  then  beginning  to  re- 
peat, but  Minos  pushed  him  forward,  and  turning  his  back 
to  him,  applied  himself  to  the  next  passenger,  a  very  gen- 
teel spirit,  who  made  a  very  low  bow  to  ^Minos,  and  then 
threw  himself  into  an  erect  attitude,  and  imitated  the  mo- 
tion of  taking  snuff  with  his  right  hand. — Minos  asked  him, 
what  he  had  to  say  for  himself.  lie  answered,  he  would 
dance  a  minuet  with  any  spirit  in  Elysium :  that  he  could 
likewise  perform  all  his  other  exercises  very  well  and  hoped 
he  had  in  his  life  deserved  the  character  of  a  perfect  fine 
gentleman.  Minos  replied,  it  would  be  great  pity  to  rob  the 
world  of  so  fine  a  gentleman,  and  therefore  desired  him  to 
take  the  other  trip.  The  beau  bowed,  thanked  the  judge, 
and  said  he  desired  no  better.  Several  spirits  expressed 
much  astonishment  at  this  his  satisfaction;  but  we  were 
afterwards  informed,  he  had  not  taken  the  emetic  above- 
mentioned, 

A  miserable  old  spirit  now  crawled  forwards,  whose  face 
I  thought  I  had  formerly  seen  near  Westminister-xVbbey. 
He  entertained  Minos  with  a  long  harangaie  of  what  he  had 
done  when  in  the  house  ;  and  then  proceeded  to  inform 
him  how  much  he  was  worth,  without  attempting  to 
produce  a  single  instance  of  any  one  good  action.  Minos 
stopt  the  career  of  his  discourse,  and  acquainted  him,  he 

must  take  a  trip  back  again. — "  "WTiat,  to  S house  ?  " 

said  the  spirit  in  an  ecstacy.  But  the  judge,  without  making 
any  answer,  turned  to  another;  who,  with  a  very  sol- 
emn air  and  great  dignity,  acquainted  him,  he  was  a 
duke. — "  To  the  right  about,  Mr.  Duke,"  cried  Minos, 
"  you  are  infinitely  too  great  a  man  for  Elysium ;  and  then 
giving  him  a  kick  on  the  b ch,  he  addressed  himself  to 


WORLD  TO  THE  NEXT,  &c.  243 

a  spirit,  who  with  fear  and  trembling  begged  he  might  not 
go  to  the  bottomless  pit:  he  said,  he  hoped  Minos  would 
consider,  that  though  he  had  gone  astraj,  he  had  suffered 
for  it,  that  it  was  necessity  which  drove  him  to  the  robbery 
of  eighteen  pence,  which  he  had  committed,  and  for  which 
he  was  hanged :  that  he  had  done  some  good  actions  in  his 
life,  that  he  had  supported  an  aged  parent  with  his  labor, 
that  he  had  been  a  very  tender  husband  and  a  kind  father, 
and  that  he  had  ruined  himself  by  being  bail  for  his  friend. 
At  which  words  the  gate  opened,  and  Minos  bid  him  enter, 
giving  him  a  slap  on  the  back,  as  he  passed  by  him. 

A  great  number  of  spirits  now  came  forwards,  who  all 
declared  they  had  the  same  claim,  and  that  the  captain 
should  speak  for  them.  He  acquainted  the  judge,  that  they 
had  been  slain  in  the  service  of  their  country.  Minos  was 
going  to  admit  them,  but  had  the  curiosity  to  ask  who  had 
been  the  invader,  in  order,  as  he  said,  to  prepare  the  back 
gate  for  him.  The  captain  answered,  they  had  been  the 
invaders  themselves,  that  they  had  entered  the  enemies' 
country,  and  burnt  and  plundered  several  cities. — "  And 
for  what  reason  ?  "  said  Minos.  "  By  the  command  of  him 
who  paid  us,"  said  the  captain,  "that  is  the  reason  of  a 
soldier.  We  are  to  execute  whatever  we  are  commanded, 
or  we  should  be  a  disgrace  to  the  army,  and  very  little  de- 
serve our  pay."  "  You  are  brave  fellows,  indeed,"  said 
Minos,  "  but  be  pleased  to  face  about,  and  obey  my  com- 
mand for  once,  in  returning  back  to  the  other  world :  for 
what  should  such  fellows  as  you  do,  where  there  are  no 
cities  to  be  burnt,  nor  people  to  be  destroyed  ?  But  let  me 
advise  you  to  have  a  stricter  regard  to  truth  for  the 
future,  and  not  call  the  depopulating  other  countries  the 
service  of  your  o^m."  The  captain  answered,  in  a  rage, 
"  D — n  me,  do  you  give  me  the  lye  ?  "  and  was  going  to 
take  Minos  by  the  nose,  had  not  his  guards  prevented  him, 
and  immediately  turned  him  and  all  his  followers  back  the 
same  road  they  came. 


211  A   JOURNEY  FROM   THIS 

Four  spirits  informed  the  judge,  that  they  had  been 
starved  to  death  through  poverty ;  being  the  father,  mother, 
and  two  children.  That  they  had  been  honest,  and  as  in- 
dustrious as  possible,  till  sickness  had  prevented  the  man 
from  labor.  "  All  that  is  very  tiiie,"  cried  a  grave  spirit, 
^vho  stood  by:  ''  I  know  the  fact,  for  these  poor  people 
were  under  my  care." — "  You  was,  I  suppose,  the  parson  of 
the  parish,"  cries  Minos ;  "  I  hope  you  had  a  good  living, 
Sir."  "  That  was  but  a  small  one,"  replied  the  spirit,  "but 
I  had  another  a  little  better." — "  Very  well,"  said  Minos, 
"  let  the  poor  people  pass." — At  which  the  parson  was  step- 
ping forwards  with  a  stately  gait  before  them ;  but  Minos 
caught  hold  of  him,  and  pulled  him  back,  saying,  "  [N^ot  so 
fast,  doctor;  you  must  take  one  step  more  into  the  other 
world  first ;  for  no  man  enters  that  gate  without  charity." 

A  very  stately  figure  now  presented  himself,  and  inform- 
ing Minos  he  was  a  patriot,  began  a  very  florid  harangue 
on  public  virtue,  and  the  liberties  of  his  country.  Upon 
which,  Minos  showed  him  the  utmost  respect,  and  ordered 
the  gate  to  be  opened.  The  patriot  was  not  contented  with 
this  applause. — He  said,  he  had  behaved  as  well  in  place 
as  he  had  done  in  the  opposition ;  and  that,  though  he  was 
now  obliged  to  embrace  the  court-measures,  yet  he  had 
behaved  very  honestly  to  his  friends,  and  brought  as  many 
in  as  was  possible. — "  Hold  a  moment,"  says  Minos,  "  on 
second  consideration,  Mr.  Patriot,  I  think  a  man  of  your 
great  virtue  and  abilities  will  be  so  much  missed  by  your 
country,  that  if  I  might  advise  you,  you  should  take  a 
journey  back  again.  I  am  sure  you  will  not  decline  it,  for 
I  am  certain  you  will  with  great  readiness  sacrifice  your 
own  happiness  to  the  public  good."  The  patriot  smiled, 
and  told  Minos  he  believed  he  was  in  jest ;  and  was  offering 
to  enter  the  gate,  but  the  judge  laid  fast  hold  of  him,  and 
insisted  on  his  return,  which  the  patriot  still  declining,  he 
at  last  ordered  his  guards  to  seize  him  and  conduct  him 
back. 


WORLD  TO  THE  NEXT,  &c.  2i5 

A  spirit  now  advanced,  and  the  gate  was  immediately 
thrown  open  to  him,  before  he  had  spoken  a  word.  I  heard 
some  whisper, — "  That  is  our  last  Lord  Mayor." 

It  now  came  to  our  company's  turn.  The  fair  spirit, 
which  I  mentioned  with  so  much  applause,  in  the  begin- 
ning of  my  journey,  passed  through  very  easily;  but  the 
grave  lady  was  rejected  on  her  first  appearance,  Minos 
declaring,  there  was  not  a  single  prude  in  Elysium. 

The  judge  then  addressed  himself  to  me,  who  little  ex- 
pected to  pa^  this  fiery  trial.  I  confessed  I  had  indulged 
m^^self  very  freely  with  wine  and  women  in  my  youth,  but 
had  never  done  an  injury  to  any  man  living,  nor  avoided 
an  opportunity  of  doing  good,  that  I  pretended  to  very 
little  virtue  more  than  general  philanthropy  and  private 
friendship. — I  was  proceeding  when  Minos  bid  me  enter 
the  gate,  and  not  indulge  myself  with  trumpeting  forth  my 
virtues.  I  accordingly  passed  forward  with  my  lovely 
companion,  and  embracing  her  with  vast  eagerness,  but 
spiritual  innocence,  she  returned  my  embrace  in  the  same 
manner,  and  we  both  congratulated  ourselves  on  our  ar- 
rival in  this  happy  region,  whose  beauty  no  painting  of  the 
imagination  can  describe. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

Tlie   adventures   u'Mch  the  author  met  on  his  first  entrance  into 

Elysium. 

We  pursued  our  way  through  a  delicious  grove  of  orange- 
trees,  where  I  saw  infinite  numbers  of  spirits,  every  one  of 
Avhom  I  knew,  and  was  known  by  them  (for  spirits  here 
know  one  another  by  intuition.)  I  presently  met  a  little 
daughter,  whom  I  had  lost  several  years  before.  Good 
Gods !  what  words  can  describe  the  raptures,  the  melting 
passionate  tenderness,  with  which  we  kissed  each  other, 
continuing  in  our  embrace,  with  the  most  ecstatic  joy,  a 


24G  A    JOURNEY  FROM  THIS 

space,  Avhich  if  time  bad  bccu  measured  here  as  on  earth, 
could  not  be  less  than  half  a  year. 

The  first  spirit  with  whom  I  entered  into  discourse  was 
the  famous  Leonidas  of  Sparta.  I  acquainted  him  with 
the  honours  which  had  been  done  him  by  a  celebrated  poet 
of  our  nation ;  to  which  he  answered,  he  was  very  much 
obliged  to  him. 

We  were  presently  afterwards  entertained  with  the  most 
delicious  voice  I  had  ever  heard,  accompanied  by  a  violin, 
equal  to  Singor  Piantinida.  I  presently  discovered  the 
musician  and  songster  to  be  Orpheus  and  Sappho. 

Old  Homer  was  present  at  this  concert  (if  I  may  so  call 
it,)  and  Madam  Dacier  sat  in  his  lap.  He  asked  much 
after  Mr.  Pope,  and  said  he  was  very  desirous  of  seeing 
him ;  for  that  he  had  read  his  Iliad  in  his  translation  with 
almost  as  much  delight,  as  he  believed  he  had  given  others 
in  the  original.  I  had  the  curiosity  to  enquire  whether  he 
had  really  writ  that  poem  in  detached  pieces,  and  sung  it 
about  as  ballads  all  over  Greece,  according  to  the  report 
which  went  of  him  ?  He  smiled  at  my  question,  and  asked 
lue,  whether  there  appeared  any  connection  in  the  poem; 
for  if  there  did,  he  thought  I  might  answer  myself.  I  then 
importuned  him  to  acquaint  me  in  which  of  the  cities, 
which  contended  for  the  honour  of  his  birth,  Jie  was  really 
born?  To  which  he  answered — "Upon  my  soul  I  can't 
tell." 

Virgil  then  came  up  to  me,  with  Mr.  Addison  under  his 
arm.  "  Well,  sir,"  said  he,  "  how  many  translations  have 
these  few  last  years  produced  of  my  iEneid  ?  "  I  told  him 
I  believed  several,  but  I  could  not  possibly  remember ;  for 

that  I  had  never  read  any  but  Dr.  Trapp's." "  Ay," 

said  he,  "that  is  a  curious  piece  indeed  !"  I  then  acquainted 
him  with  the  discovery  made  by  Mr.  Warburton  of  the 
Elousinian  mysteries  couched  in  his  sixth  book.  "  "What 
mysteries?"  said  Mr.  Addison,  "The  Eleusinian,"  an- 
swered Virgil,  "  which  I  have  disclosed  in  my  sixth  book." 


WORLD  TO  THE  NEXT,  &c.  247 

"  How,"  replied  Addison.  "You  never  mentioned  a  word  of 
any  such  mysteries  to  me  in  all  our  acquaintance."  "  I 
thought  it  was  unnecessary,"  cried  the  other,  "  to  a  man  of 
your  infinite  learning:  besides  you  always  told  me  you 
perfectly  understood  my  meaning."  Upon  this  I  thought 
the  critic  looked  a  little  out  of  countenance,  and  turned 
aside  to  a  very  merrj^  spirit,  one  Dick  Steel,  who  embraced 
him,  and  told  him,  he  had  been  the  greatest  man  upon 
earth ;  that  he  readily  resigned  up  all  the  merit  of  his  own 
works  to  him.  Upon  which,  Addison  gave  him  a  gracious 
smile,  and  clapping  him  on  the  back  with  much  solemnity, 
cried  out,  "  Well  said,  Dick." 

I  then  observed  Shakespear  standing  between  Betterton 
and  Booth,  and  deciding  a  difference  between  those  two 
great  actors,  concerning  the  placing  an  accent  in  one  of 
his  lines;  this  was  disputed  on  both  sides  with  a  warmth, 
which  surprised  me  in  Elysium,  till  I  discovered  by  intui- 
tion, that  every  soul  retained  its  principal  characteristic, 
being,  indeed,  its  very  essence.  The  line  was  that  cele- 
brated one  in  Othello ; 

Put  out  the  light,  and  then  put  out  the  light. 
according  to  Betterton.     Mr.  Booth  contended  to  have  it 
thus ; 

Put  out  the  light,  and  then  put  out  the  light. 
I  could  not  help  offering  my  conjecture  on  this  occasion, 
and  suggested  it  might  perhaps  be. 

Put  out  the  light,  and  then  put  out  thy  light. 
Another  hinted  a  reading  very  sophisticated  in  my  opin- 
ion. 

Put  out  the  light,  and  then  put  out  thee  light; 
making  light  to  be  the  vocative  case.    Another  would  have 
altered  the  last  word,  and  read. 

Put  out  thy  light,  and  then  put  out  thy  sight. 
But  Betterton  said,  if  the  text  was  to  be  disturbed,  he 
saw  no  reason  why  a  word  might  not  be  changed  as  well  as 
a  letter,  and  instead  of  "put  out  thy  light,"  you  may  read, 


248  A   JOURNEY  FROM   THIS 

"put  out  thy  ej-es."  At  last  it  was  ag^'ced  on  all  sides  to 
refer  the  matter  to  the  decision  of  Shakespear  himself,  who 
delivered  his  sentiments  as  follows:  "  Faith,  gentlemen,  it 
is  so  long  since  I  wrote  the  line,  I  have  forgot  my  meaning. 
This  I  know,  could  I  have  dreamt  so  much  nonsense  would 
have  heen  talked  and  writ  about  it,  I  would  have  blotted 
it  out  of  my  works ;  for  I  am  sure  if  any  of  these  be  my 
meaning,  it  doth  me  very  little  honour," 

He  was  then  interrogated  concerning  some  other  ambi- 
nous  passages  in  his  works;  but  he  declined  any  satisfac- 
tory answer :  Saying,  if  Mr.  Theobald  had  not  writ  about  it 
sufficiently,  there  were  three  or  four  more  new  editions  of 
his  plays  coming  out,  which  he  hoped  would  satisfy  every 
one :  Concluding,  "  I  marvel  nothing  so  much  as  that  men 
will  gird  themselves  at  discovering  obscure  beauties  in  an 
author.  Certes  the  greatest  and  most  pregnant  beauties 
are  ever  the  plainest  and  most  evidently  striking;  and 
when  two  meanings  of  a  passage  can  in  the  least  balance 
our  judgments  which  to  prefer,  I  hold  it  matter  of  unques- 
tionable certainty,  that  neither  of  them  is  worth  a  far- 
thing." 

From  his  works  our  conversation  turned  on  his  monu- 
ment: upon  which,  Shakespear,  shaking  his  sides,  and  ad- 
dressing himself  to  Milton,  cried  out :  "  On  my  word, 
brother  !Milton,  they  have  brought  a  noble  set  of  poets  to- 
gether, they  would  have  been  hanged  erst  have  convened 
such  a  company  at  their  tables,  when  alive."  "  True, 
brother,"  answered  Milton,  "unless  Ave  had  been  as  incapa- 
ble of  eating  then  as  we  arc  now." 


CHAPTER  IX. 

More  adventures  in  Elysium. 

A  CROWD  of  spirits  now  joined  us,  whom  I  soon  per- 
ceived to  be  the  heroes,  who  here  frequently  pay  their 
respects  to  the  several  bards,  the  recorders  of  their  actions. 


WORLD  TO  THE  NEXT,  &c.  249 

I  now  saw  Achilles  and  Ulysses  addressing  themselves  to 
Homer,  and  iEneas  and  Julius  Caesar  to  Virgil:  Adam 
went  np  to  Milton,  upon  which  I  whispered  ]\Ir.  Dryden, 
that  I  thought  the  devil  should  have  paid  his  compliments 
there  according  to  his  opinion.  Dryden  only  answered,  "  I 
believe  the  devil  was  in  me  when  I  said  so."  Several  ap- 
plied themselves  to  Shakespear,  amongst  whom  Henry  V. 
made  a  very  distinguishing  appearance.  While  my  eyes 
were  fixed  on  that  monarch,  a  very  small  spirit  came  up  to 
me,  shook  me  heartily  by  the  hand,  and  told  me  his  name 
was  Thomas  Thumb.  I  expressed  great  satisfaction  in 
seeing  him,  nor  could  I  help  speaking  my  resentment 
against  the  historian,  who  had  done  such  injustice  to  the 
stature  of  this  great  little  man :  which  he  represented  to  be 
no  bigger  than  a  span ;  whereas  I  plainly  perceived  at  first 
sight,  he  was  full  a  foot  and  a  half  (and  the  3Tth  part  of 
an  inch  more,  as  he  himself  informed  me,)  being  indeed 
little  shorter  than  some  considerable  beaus  of  the  present 
age. 

I  asked  this  little  hero  concerning  the  truth  of  those 
stories  related  of  him,  viz.,  of  the  pudding  and  the  cow's 
belly.  As  to  the  former,  he  said  it  was  a  ridiculous  legend, 
worthy  to  be  laughed  at :  but  as  to  the  latter,  he  could  not 
help  owning  there  was  some  truth  in  it :  nor  had  he  any 
reason  to  be  ashamed  of  it,  as  he  was  swallowed  by  sur- 
prise ;  adding  with  great  fierceness,  that  if  he  had  had  any 
weapon  in  his  hand,  the  cow  should  have  as  soon  swallowed 
the  devil. 

He  spoke  the  last  word  with  so  much  fury,  and  seemed 
so  confounded,  that  perceiving  the  effect  it  had  on  him,  I 
immediately  waived  the  story,  and  passing  to  other  matters, 
we  had  much  conversation  touching  giants.  He  said,  so 
far  from  killing  any,  he  had  never  seen  one  alive ;  that  he 
believed  those  actions  were  by  mistake  recorded  of  him, 
instead  of  Jack  the  giant-killer,  whom  he  knew  very  well, 
and  who  had,  he  fancied,  extirpated  the  race.  I  assured 
him  to  the  contrary,  and  told  him  I  had  myself  seen  a  huge 


250  A    JOURNEY  FROM  THIS 

tame  giant,  who  very  complacently  stayed  in  Loudon  a 
whole  winter,  at  the  special  request  of  several  gentlemen 
and  ladies ;  though  the  affairs  of  his  family  called  liim  home 
to  Sweden. 

I  now  beheld  a  stem-looking  spirit  leaning  on  the 
shoulder  of  another  spirit,  and  presently  discerned  the 
former  to  be  Oliver  Cromwell,  and  the  latter  Charles  Mar- 
tcl.  I  own  I  wag  a  little  surprised  at  seeing  Cromwell 
here;  for  I  had  been  taught  by  my  grandmother  that  he 
was  carried  away  by  the  devil  himself  in  a  tempest ;  but  he 
assured  me  on  his  honour,  there  was  not  the  least  truth  in 
that  story.  However,  he  confessed  he  had  narrowly 
escaped  the  bottomless  pit;  and  if  the  former  part  of  his 
conduct  had  not  been  more  to  his  honour  than  the  latter, 
he  had  been  certainly  soused  into  it.  He  was  nevertheless 
sent  back  to  the  uj)per  world  with  this  lot, 

Army, 

Cavalier, 

Distress. 
He  was  born  for  the  second  time,  the  day  of  Charles  II.'s 
restoration,  into  a  family  which  had  lost  a  very  considerable 
fortune  in  the  service  of  that  prince  and  his  father,  for 
which  they  received  the  reward  very  often  conferred  by 
princes  on  real  merit,  viz. — 000.  At  16,  his  father  bought 
a  small  commission  for  him  in  the  army,  in  which  he 
server  without  any  promotion  all  the  reigns  of  Charles  11. 
and  of  his  brother.  At  the  revolution  he  quitted  his  regi- 
ment, and  followed  the  fortunes  of  his  foniier  master,  and 
was  in  his  service  dangerously  wounded  at  the  famous 
battle  of  the  Boyne,  where  he  fought  in  the  capacity  of  a 
private  soldier.  He  recovered  of  this  wound,  and  retired 
after  the  unfortunate  king  to  Paris,  where  he  was  reduced 
to  support  a  wife,  and  seven  children  (for  his  lot  had  horns 
in  it,)  by  cleaning  shoes,  and  snuffing  candles  at  the  opera. 
In  which  situation,  after  he  had  spent  a  few  miserable 
years,  he  died  half-starved  and  broken-hearted.     He  then 


WORLD  TO  TEE  NEXT,  £c.  251 

revisited  Minos,  who  compassionating  his  sufferings,  by 
means  of  that  family,  to  whom  he  had  been  in  his  former 
capacity  so  bitter  an  enemy,  suffered  him  to  enter  here. 

My  curiosity  could  not  refrain  asking  him  one  question, 
i.  e.  Whether  in  reality  he  had  any  desire  to  obtain  the 
crown.  He  smiled  and  said,  "  'No  more  than  an  ecclesias- 
tic hath  to  the  mitre,  when  he  cries  Nolo  episco'pari"  In- 
deed, he  seemed  to  express  some  contempt  at  the  question, 
and  presently  turned  away. 

A  venerable  spirit  appeared  next,  whom  I  found  to  be 
the  great  historian  Livy.  Alexander  the  Great,  who  was 
just  arrived  from  the  palace  of  death,  passed  by  him  with 
a  frown.  The  historian,  observing  it,  said,  "Ay,  you  may 
frown,  but  those  troops  which  conquered  the  base  Asiatic 
slaves,  would  have  made  no  figure  against  the  Romans." 
We  then  privately  lamented  the  loss  of  the  most  valuable 
part  of  his  history,  after  which  he  took  occasion  to  com- 
mend the  judicious  collection  made  by  Mr.  Hooke,  which 
he  said  was  infinitely  preferable  to  all  others ;  and  at  my 
mentioning  Echard's,  he  gave  a  bounce,  not  unlike  the  go- 
ing off  of  a  squib,  and  was  departing  from  me,  when  I 
begged  him  to  satisfy  my  curiosity  in  one  point.  Whether 
he  was  really  superstitious  or  no  ?  For  I  had  always  be- 
lieved he  was,  till  Mr.  Leibnitz  had  assured  me  to  the  con- 
trary. He  answered  sullenly : — "  Doth  Mr.  Leibnitz  know 
my  mind  better  than  myself  ?  "  and  then  walked  away. 


CHAPTER  X. 

The  author  is  surprised  at  meeting  Julian  the  apostate  in  Elysium  ; 
but  is  satisfied  by  him,  by  tohat  means  he  procured  his  entrance 
there.    Julian  relates  his  adventures  in  the  character  of  a  slave. 

As  he  was  departing,  I  heard  him  salute  a  spirit  by 
the  name  of  Mr.  Julian  the  apostate.  This  exceedingly 
amazed  me :  for  I  had  concluded,  that  no  man  ever  had  a 
better  title  to  the  bottomless  pit  than  he.    But  I  soon  found, 


232  A   JOURNEY  FROM   THIS 

that  this  same  Julian  llio  apostate  M-as  also  the  very  indi- 
vidual archbishop  Latimer.  Jle  told  me,  that  several  lies 
had  been  raised  on  him  in  his  former  capacity,  nor  was  he 
so  bad  a  man  as  he  had  been  represented.  However,  ho 
had  been  denied  admittance,  and  forced  to  undergo  several 
subsequent  pilirrimages  on  earth,  and  to  act  in  the  different 
characters  of  a  slave,  a  Jew,  a  general,  an  heir,  a  carpenter, 
a  bean,  a  monk,  a  fiddler,  a  wise  man,  a  king,  a  fool,  a  beg- 
gar, a  prince,  a  statesman,  a  soldier,  a  tailor,  an  alderman, 
a  poet,  a  knight,  a  dancing-master,  and  three  times  a  bishop 
before  his  martyrdom,  which,  together  with  his  other  be- 
haviour in  this  last  character,  satisfied  the  judge,  and  pro- 
cured him  a  passage  to  the  blessed  regions. 

I  told  him  such  various  characters  must  have  produced 
incidents  extremely  entertaining;  and  if  he  remembered 
all,  I  supposed  he  did,  and  had  leisure,  I  should  be  obliged 
to  him  for  the  recital.  He  answered,  he  perfectly  recol- 
lected every  circumstance ;  and  as  to  leisure,  the  only  busi- 
ness of  that  happy  place  was  to  contribute  to  the  happiness 
of  each  other.  He  therefore  thanked  me  for  adding  to  his, 
in  proposing  to  him  a  metliod  of  increasing  mine.  I  then 
took  my  little  darling  in  one  hand,  and  my  favourite  fellow- 
traveler  in  the  other,  and  going  with  him  to  a  sunny 
bank  of  flowers,  we  all  sat  down  and  he  began  as  follows : 

"  I  suppose  you  are  sufiiciently  acquainted  with  my 
story,  during  the  time  I  acted  the  part  of  the  emperor 
Julian,  though  I  assure  you,  all  which  hath  been  related  of 
me  is  not  true,  particularly  with  regard  to  the  many  prodi- 
gies forerunning  my  death.  However,  there  are  now  very 
little  worth  disputing;  and  if  they  can  serve  any  pui'pose 
of  the  historian,  they  are  extremely  at  his  service. 

"  My  next  entrance  into  the  world,  was  at  Laodicia  in 
Syria,  in  a  Roman  family  of  no  great  note;  and  being  of 
a  roving  disposition,  I  came  at  the  age  of  seventeen  to  Con- 
stantinople, where,  after  about  a  year's  stay,  I  set  out  for 
Thrace,  at  the  time  when  the  emperor  Valens  admitted  the 


WORLD  TO  TEE  NEXT,  &c.  253 

Goths  into  tliat  country.  I  was  tliere  so  captivated  with 
the  beauty  of  a  Gothic  lady,  the  wife  of  one  Rodoric  a  cap- 
tain, whose  name,  out  of  the  most  delicate  tenderness  for 
her  lovely  sex,  I  shall  even  at  this  distance  conceal ;  since 
her  behaviour  to  me  was  most  consistent  with  good-nature, 
than  with  that  virtue  which  women  are  obliged  to  preserve 
against  every  assailant.  In  order  to  procure  an  intimacy 
with  this  woman,  I  sold  myself  a  slave  to  her  husband, 
who,  being  of  a  nation  not  over-inclined  to  jealousy,  pre- 
sented me  to  his  wife,  for  those  very  reasons,  which  would 
have  induced  one  of  a  jealous  complexion  to  have  with- 
held me  from  her,  namely,  for  that  I  was  young  and  hand- 
some. 

"  Matters  succeeded  so  far  according  to  my  wish,  and  the 
sequel  answered  those  hopes  which  this  beginning  had 
raised.  I  soon  perceived  my  service  was  very  acceptable 
to  her,  I  often  met  her  eyes,  nor  did  she  withdraw  them 
without  a  confusion  which  is  scarce  consistent  with  entire 
purity  of  heart.  Indeed,  she  gave  me  every  day  fresh  en- 
couragement, but  the  unhappy  distance  which  circum- 
stances had  placed  between  us  deterred  me  long  from  mak- 
ing any  direct  attack,  and  she  was  too  strict  an  observer  of 
decorum,  to  violate  the  severe  rules  of  modesty  by  advancing 
first ;  but  passion,  at  last,  got  the  better  of  my  respect,  and 
I  resolved  to  make  one  bold  attempt,  whatever  was  the  con- 
sequence. Accordingly,  laying  hold  of  the  first  kind  op- 
portunity, when  she  was  alone,  and  my  master  abroad,  I 
stoutly  assailed  the  citadel  and  carried  it  by  storm.  Well, 
may  I  say  by  storm :  for  the  resistance  I  met  was  extremely 
resolute,  and  indeed,  as  much  as  the  most  perfect  decency 
would  require.  She  swore  often  she  would  ciy  out  for 
help,  but  I  answered,  it  was  in  vain,  seeing  there  was  no 
person  near  to  assist  her;  and  probably  she  believed  me, 
for  she  did  not  once  actually  cry  out,  which  if  she  had,  I 
might  very  likely  have  been  prevented. 

"  When  she  found  her  virtue  thus  subdued  against  her 


254  A  JOURNEY   FROM    THIS 

will,  she  patiently  submitted  to  her  fate,  and  quietly  suf- 
fered me  a  long  time  to  enjoy  the  most  delicious  fruits  of 
my  victory :  but  envious  fortune  resolved  to  make  me  pay  a 
dear  price  for  my  pleasure.  One  day  in  the  midst  of  our 
happiness,  we  were  suddenly  surprised  by  the  unexpected 
return  of  her  husband,  who  coming  directly  into  his  wife's 
apartment,  just  allowed  me  time  to  creep  under  the  bed. 
The  disorder  in  which  he  found  his  wife  might  have  sur- 
prisd  a  jealous  temper;  but  his  was  so  far  otherwise,  that 
possibly  no  mischief  might  have  happened,  had  he  not  by 
a  cross  accident  discovered  my  legs,  which  were  not  well 
hid.  He  immediately  drew  me  out  by  them,  and  then  turn- 
ing to  his  wife  with  a  stem  countenance,  began  to  handle  a 
weapon  he  wore  by  his  side,  with  which  I  am  persuaded, 
he  would  have  instantly  dispatched  her,  had  I  not  very  gal- 
lantly, and  with  many  imprecations,  asserted  her  inno- 
cence and  my  own  guilt ;  which,  however,  I  protested  had 
hitherto  gone  no  farther  than  design.  She  so  well  seconded 
my  plea  (for  she  was  a  woman  of  wonderful  art,)  that  he 
was  at  length  imposed  upon;  and  now  all  his  rage  was 
directed  against  me,  threatening  all  manner  of  tortures, 
which  the  poor  lady  was  in  too  great  a  fright  and  confu- 
sion to  dissuade  him  from  executing;  and  perhaps,  if  her 
concern  for  me  had  made  her  attempt  it,  it  would  have 
raised  a  jealousy  in  him  not  afterwards  to  be  removed. 

"After  some  hesitation,  Rodoric  cried  out,  he  had  luckily 
hit  on  the  most  proper  punishment  for  me  in  the  world,  by 
a  method  which  would  at  once  do  severe  justice  on  me  for 
my  criminal  intention,  and  at  the  same  time  prevent  me 
from  any  danger  of  executing  my  wicked  purpose  here- 
after. This  cruel  resolution  was  immediately  executed, 
and  I  was  no  longer  worthy  the  name  of  a  man. 

"  Having  thus  disqualified  me  from  doing  him  any 
future  injury,  he  still  retained  me  in  his  family:  but  the 
lady,  very  probably  repenting  of  what  she  had  done,  and 
looking  on  me  as  the  author  of  her  guilt,  would  never,  for 


WORLD  TO  THE  NEXT,  &c.  255 

the  future,  give  me  either  a  kind  word  or  look :  and  shortly 
after,  a  great  exchange  being  made  between  the  Romans 
and  the  Goths  of  dogs  for  men,  my  lady  exchanged  me  with 
a  Eoman  widow  for  a  small  lapdog,  giving  a  considerable 
sum  of  money  to  boot. 

'"'  In  this  widow's  service  I  remained  seven  years,  dur- 
ing all  which  time  I  was  very  barbarously  treated.  I  was 
worked  without  the  least  mercy,  and  often  severely  beat  by 
a  swinging  maid  servant,  who  never  called  me  by  any  other 
names  than  those  of  the  Thing  and  the  Animal.  Though  I 
nsed  my  utmost  industry  to  please,  it  never  was  in  my 
power.  N^either  the  lady  nor  her  woman  would  eat  any 
thing  I  touched,  saying,  they  did  not  believe  me  wholesome. 
It  is  unnecessary  to  repeat  particulars ;  in  a  word,  you  can 
imagine  no  kind  of  ill  usage  which  I  did  not  suffer  in  this 
family. 

"At  last,  an  heathen  priest,  an  acquaintance  of  my  lady's 
obtained  me  of  her  for  a  present.  The  scene  was  now  total- 
ly changed,  and  I  had  as  much  reason  to  be  satisfied  with 
my  present  situation,  as  I  had  to  lament  my  former.  I 
was  so  absolutely  my  master's  favourite  that  the  rest  of  the 
slaves  paid  me  almost  as  much  regard  as  they  showed  to 
him,  well  knowing,  that  it  was  entirely  in  my  power  to  com- 
mand, and  treat  them  as  I  pleased.  I  was  entrusted  with  all 
my  master's  secrets  and  used  to  assist  him  in  privately  con- 
veying away  by  night  the  sacrifices  from  the  altars,  which 
the  people  believed  the  deities  themselves  devoured.  Upon 
these  we  feasted  very  elegantly,  nor  could  invention  suggest 
a  rarity  which  we  did  not  pamper  ourselves  with.  Perhaps, 
you  may  admire  at  the  close  union  between  this  priest  and 
his  slave :  but  we  lived  in  an  intimacy  which  the  Christians 
thought  criminal :  but  my  master,  who  knew  the  will  of  the 
gods,  with  whom  he  told  me  he  often  conversed,  assured  me 
it  was  perfectly  innocent. 

"  This  happy  life  continued  about  four  years,  when  my 


25G  .1   JOURNEY  FROM   THIS 

master's  death,  occasioned  by  a  surfeit  got  by  overfeeding 
on  several  exquisite  dainties,  put  an  end  to  it. 

"  I  now  fell  into  the  hands  of  (jne  of  a  very  different  dis- 
position, and  this  Avas  no  other  than  the  celebrated  St. 
Chrysostome,  who  dieted  me  with  sermons  instead  of  sacri- 
fices, and  filled  my  ears  with  good  things,  but  not  my  belly. 
Instead  of  high  food  to  fatten  and  pamper  my  flesh,  I  had 
receipts  to  mortify  and  reduce  it.  "With  these  I  edified  so 
well,  that  within  a  few  months  I  became  a  skeleton.  IIow- 
ever,  as  he  had  converted  me  to  his  faith,  I  was  well  enough 
satisfied  with  this  new  manner  of  living;  by  which  he 
taught  me,  I  might  insure  myself  an  eternal  reward  in  a 
future  state.  The  saint  was  a  good-natured  man,  and  never 
gave  me  an  ill  word  but  once,  which  was  occasioned  by  my 
neglecting  to  place  Aristophanes,  which  was  his  constant 
bedfellow,  on  his  pillow.  lie  was  indeed,  extremely  fond  of 
that  Greek  poet,  and  frequently  made  me  read  his  comedies 
to  him :  when  I  came  to  any  of  the  loose  passages,  he  would 
smile,  and  say.  It  was  pity  /as  matter  was  not  as  pure  as 
his  style;  of  which  latter,  he  was  so  immoderately  fond, that 
notwithstanding  the  detestation  he  expressed  for  obscenity, 
he  hath  made  me  repeat  those  passages  ten  times  over.  The 
character  of  this  good  man  hath  been  very  unjustly  attacked 
by  his  heathen  cotemporaries,  particularly  with  regard  to 
women ;  but  his  severe  invectives  against  that  sex,  are  his 
sufficient  justification. 

"  From  the  sendees  of  this  saint,  from  whom  I  received 
manumission,  I  entered  into  the  family  of  Timasius,  a 
leader  of  great  eminence  in  the  Imperial  army,  into  whose 
favour  I  so  far  insinuated  myself  that  he  preferred  me  to 
a  good  command  and  soon  made  me  partaker  of  both  his 
company  and  his  secrets.  I  soon  grew  intoxicated  with  this 
preferment,  and  the  more  he  loaded  me  with  benefits,  the 
more  he  raised  my  opinion  of  my  owtq  merit;  which  still 
outstripping  the  rewards  he  conferred  on  me  inspired  me 
rather  with  dissatisfaction  than  gratitude.     And  thus,  by 


WORLD  TO  THE  NEXT,  &c.  257 

preferring  me  beyond  my  merit  or  first  expectation,  he 
made  me  an  envious  aspiring  enemy,  whom  perhaps,  a 
more  moderate  bounty  would  have  preserved  a  dutiful 
servant. 

"  I  fell  now  acquainted  with  one  Lucilius,  a  creature  of 
the  prime  minister  Eutropius,  who  had  by  his  favour  been 
raised  to  the  post  of  a  tribune ;  a  man  of  low  morals,  and 
eminent  only  in  that  meanest  of  qualities,  cunning.  This 
gentleman,  imagining  me  a  fit  tool  for  the  minister's  pur- 
pose, having  often  sounded  my  principles  of  honour  and 
honesty,  both  which  he  declared  to  me  were  words  without 
meaning;  and  finding  my  ready  concurrence  in  his  senti- 
ments, recommended  me  to  Eutropius  as  very  proper  to 
execute  some  wicked  purposes  he  had  contrived  against  my 
friend  Timasius.  The  minister  embraced  this  recommen- 
dation, and  I  was  accordingly  acquainted  by  Lucilius 
(after  some  previous  accounts  of  the  great  esteem  Eutro- 
pius entertained  of  me,  from  the  testimony  he  had  borne 
of  my  parts)  that  he  would  introduce  me  to  him;  adding, 
that  he  was  a  great  encourager  of  merit,  and  that  I  might 
depend  upon  his  favour. 

"  I  was  with  little  difiiculty  prevailed  on  to  accept  of  this 
invitation.  A  late  hour  therefore  the  next  evening  being 
appointed,  I  attended  my  friend  Lucilius  to  the  minister's 
house.  He  received  me  with  the  utmost  civility  and  cheer- 
fulness, and  affected  so  much  regard  to  me,  that  I,  who  knew 
nothing  of  these  high  scenes  of  life,  concluded  I  had  in 
him  a  most  disinterested  friend,  owing  to  the  favourable 
report  which  Lucilius  had  made  of  me.  I  was,  however, 
soon  cured  of  this  opinion ;  for  immediately  after  supper, 
our  discourse  turned  on  the  injustice  which  the  generality 
of  the  world  were  guilty  of  in  their  conduct  to  great  men, 
expecting  that  they  should  reward  their  private  merit, 
without  ever  endeavouring  to  apply  it  to  their  use.  What 
avail,  said  Eutropius,  the  learning,  ivit,  courage,  or  any 
virtue  which  a  man  may  he  possessed  of  to  me,  unless  I 


258  A   JOURNEY  FROM  THIS 

receive  some  hencfil  frotn  litem?  Ilatli  he  nut  more  merit 
to  mc,  wlio  doth  inij  biusincss,  and  obeys  my  commands, 
without  any  of  these  qualities?  I  gave  such  entire  satisfac- 
tion in  my  answers  on  this  head,  that  both  the  minister  and 
his  creature  grew  bolder,  and  after  some  preface,  began  to 
accuse  Timasius.  At  hist,  tinding  I  did  not  attempt  to  de- 
fend him,  Lucilius  swore  a  great  oath,  that  he  was  not  fit  to 
live,  and  that  he  would  destroy  him,  Eutropius  answered, 
that  it  would  be  too  dangerous  a  task;  Indeed,  says  he, 
his  crimes  are  of  so  hlach  a  dye,  and  so  well  known  to  the 
emperor,  that  his  death  must  be  a  very  acceptable  service, 
and  could  not  fail  meeting  a  proper  reward;  but  I  question 
lohether  you  are  capable  of  executing  it.  If  he  is  not,  cried 
I,  I  am;  and  surely,  no  man  can  have  greater  motives  to 
destroy  him  than  myself :  for,  besides  his  disloyalty  to  my 
prince,  for  whom  I  have  so  perfect  a  duty,  I  have  private 
disobligations  to  him.  I  have  had  fellows  put  over  my 
head,  to  the  great  scandal  of  the  service  in  general,  and  to 

my  own  prejudice  and  disappointment  in  particular. 1 

will  not  repeat  you  my  whole  speech  :but  to  be  as  concise  as 
possible,  when  we  parted  that  evening,  the  minister 
squeezed  mc  heartily  by  my  hand,  and  with  great  commen- 
dation of  my  honesty,  and  assurances  of  his  favor,  he  ap- 
pointed me  the  next  evening  to  come  to  him  alone ;  when 
finding  me,  after  a  little  more  scrutiny,  ready  for  his  pur- 
pose, he  proposed  to  me  to  accuse  Timasius  of  high  treason ; 
promising  me  the  highest  rewards  if  I  would  undertake  it. 
The  consequence  to  him  I  suppose,  you  know,  was  ruin : 
but  what  was  it  to  me  ?  Why  truly,  when  I  waited  on  Eu- 
tropius, for  the  fulfilling  his  promises,  he  received  me  with 
great  distance  and  coldness ;  and  on  my  dropping  some 
hints  of  my  expectations  from  him,  he  affected  not  to 
understand  mc ;  saying,  he  thought  impunity  was  the  ut- 
most I  could  hope  for, on  discovering  my  accomplice, whose 
offense  was  only  greater  than  mine,  as  he  was  in  a  higher 
station ;  and  telling  me  he  had  great  difficulty  to  obtain  a 


WORLD  TO  TEE  NEXT,  &c.  259 

pardon  for  me  from  the  emj)eror,  whicli,  lie  said,  lie  had 
struggled  very  hardly  for,  as  he  had  worked  the  discovery 
out  of  me.  He  turned  away,  and  addressed  himself  to 
another  person. 

"  I  was  so  incensed  at  this  treatment,  that  I  resolved 
revenge,  and  should  certainly  have  pursued  it,  had  he  not 
cautiously  prevented  me  by  taking  effectual  means  to  dis- 
patch me  soon  after  out  of  the  world. 

"  You  will,  I  believe,  now  think,  I  lead  a  second  good 
chance,  for  the  bottomless  pit,  and  indeed  Minos  seemed 
inclined  to  tumble  me  in,  till  he  was  informed  of  the 
revenge  taken  on  me  by  Rodorie,  and  my  seven  years  subse- 
quent servitude  to  the  widow ;  which  he  thought  sufficient 
to  make  atonement  for  all  the  crimes  a  single  life  could 
admit  of,  and  so  sent  me  back  to  try  my  fortune  a  third 
time." 


CHAPTER  XL 

In  ivhich   Julian    relates   his   adventures  in    the  character  of  an 
avaricious  Jew. 

"  The  next  character  in  which  I  was  destined  to  appear 
in  the  flesh,  was  that  of  an  avaricious  Jew.  I  was  born  in 
Alexandria  in  Egypt.  My  name  was  Balthazar.  I^othing 
very  remarkable  happened  to  me  till  the  year  of  the  mem- 
orable tumult,  in  which  the  Jews  of  that  city  are  reported 
in  history  to  have  massacreed  more  Christians  than  at  that 
time  dwelt  in  it.  Indeed,  the  truth  is,  they  did  maul  the 
dogs  pretty  handsomely ;  but  I  myself  was  not  present,  for 
as  all  our  people  were  ordered  to  be  armed,  I  took  that 
opportunity  of  selling  two  swords,  which  probably  I  might 
otherwise  never  have  disposed  of,  they  being  extremely 
old  and  rusty:  so  that  having  no  weapon  left,  I  did  not 
care  to  venture  abroad.  Besides,  though  I  really  thought 
it  an  act  meriting  salvation  to  murder  the  j^azarines,  as 
the  fact  was  to  be  committed  at  midnight,  at  which  time, 


2G0  A   JOURNEY  FROM   THIS 

to  avoid  suspiciou,  wq  Avcre  all  to  sally  from  our  own 
houses;  I  cannot  persuade  myself  to  consume  so  much  oil 
in  sittin<]^  up  till  that  hour:  for  these  reasons  therefore,  I 
remained  at  home  that  evening. 

"  I  was  at  this  time  greatly  enamoured  with  one  Hy- 
patia,  the  daughter  of  a  philosopher;  a  young  lady  of 
the  gi'eatest  beauty  and  merit :  indeed,  she  had  every  ima- 
ginable ornament  both  of  mind  and  body.  She  seemed  not 
to  dislike  my  person : but  there  were  two  obstructions  to  our 
marriage,  viz.  my  religion  and  her  poverty:  both  which 
might  probably  have  been  got  over,  had  not  those  dogs  the 
Christians  murdered  her ;  and,  what  is  worse,  afterwards 
burnt  her  body ;  worse,  I  say,  because  I  lost  by  that  means 
a  jewel  of  some  value,  which  I  had  presented  to  her,  de- 
signing, if  our  nuptials  did  not  take  place,  to  demand  it  of 
her  back  again. 

"  Being  thus  disappointed  in  my  love,  I  soon  after  left 
Alexandria,  and  went  to  the  Imperial  city,  where  I  appre- 
hended I  should  find  a  good  market  for  jewels  on  the  ap- 
proaching marriage  of  the  emperor  with  Athcnais.  I 
disguised  myself  as  a  beggar  on  this  journey,  for  these  rea- 
sons :  first,  as  I  imagined  I  should  thus  carry  my  jewels 
with  greater  safety;  and  secondly,  to  lessen  my  expenses: 
which  latter  expedient  succeeded  so  well,  that  I  begged  two 
oboli  on  my  way  more  than  my  traveling  cost  me,  my  diet 
being  chiefly  roots,  and  my  drink  water. 

"But,  perhaps,  it  had  been  better  for  me  if  I  had  been 
more  lavish,  and  more  expeditious:  for  the  ceremony  was 
over  before  I  reached  Constantinople;  so  that  I  lost  that 
glorious  opportunity  of  disposing  of  my  jewels,  with  which 
many  of  our  people  were  greatly  enriched. 

"  The  life  of  a  miser  is  very  little  vrorth  relating,  as  it  is 
one  constant  scheme  of  getting  or  saving  money.  I  shall, 
therefore,  repeat  to  you  some  few  only  of  my  adventures, 
without  regard  to  any  order. 

"A  Roman  Jew,  who  was  a  great  lover  of  Falernian 


WORLD  TO  TEE  NEXT,  &c.  2G1 

wine,  and  wlio  indulged  himself  very  freely  with  it,  came  to 
dine  at  my  house ;  when  knowing  he  should  meet  with  little 
wine,  and  that  of  the  cheaper  sort,  sent  me  in  half  a  dozen 
jars  of  Falernian.  Can  you  believe  I  would  not  give  this 
man  his  own  wine  ?  Sir,  I  adulterated  it  so,  that  I  made 
six  jars  of  them ;  three,  which  he  and  his  friend  drank;  the 
other  three  I  afterwards  sold  to  the  very  person  who  orig- 
inally sent  them  me,  knowing  he  would  give  a  better  price 
than  any  other. 

"A  noble  Roman  came  one  day  to  my  house  in  the  coim- 
try,  which  I  had  purchased,  for  half  the  value,  of  a  dis- 
tressed person.  My  neighbors  paid  him  the  compliment  of 
some  music,  on  which  account,  when  he  departed,  he  left  a 
piece  of  gold  with  me,  to  be  distributed  among  them.  I 
pocketed  this  mone}^,  and  ordered  them  a  small  vessel  of 
sour  wine,  which  I  could  not  have  sold  for  above  two  drach- 
mas, and  afterwards  made  them  pay  in  work  three  times 
the  value  of  it. 

"As  I  was  not  entirely  void  of  religion,  though  I  pre- 
tended to  infinitely  more  than  I  had,  so  I  endeavoured  to 
reconcile  my  transactions  to  my  conscience  as  well  as  pos- 
sible. Thus  I  never  invited  any  one  to  eat  with  me,  but 
those  on  whose  pockets  I  had  some  design.  After  our  col- 
lation, it  was  constantly  my  method  to  set  down  in  a  book  I 
kept  for  that  purpose,  what  I  thought  they  owed  me,  for 
their  meal.  Indeed,  this  was  generally  a  hundred  times 
as  much  as  they  could  have  dined  elsewhere  for :  but,  how- 
ever, it  was  quid  pro  quo  if  not  ad  valorem.  JSTow,  when- 
ever the  opportunity  offered  of  imposing  on  them,  I  con- 
sidered it  only  as  paying  myself  what  they  owed  me:  in- 
deed, I  did  not  always  confine  myself  strictly  to  what  I  had 
set  down,  however  extravagant  that  was;  but  I  reconciled 
taking  the  overplus  to  myself  as  usance. 

"  But  I  was  not  only  cunning  for  others,  I  sometimes 
overreached  myself.  I  have  contracted  distempers  for 
want  of  food  and  warmth,  which  have  put  me  to  the 


202  .1    JOURXEY   L'llOM    THIS 

expense  of  a  physician ;  nay,  I  once  very  narrowly  escaped 
death  by  taking  bad  drugs,  only  to  save  one  seven-eighth 
per  cent,  in  the  i)rico, 

"  By  these,  and  such  like  means,  in  the  midst  of  poverty, 
and  every  kind  of  distress,  I  saw  myself  master  of  an  im- 
mense fortune:  the  casting  up  and  ruminating  on  which 
was  my  daily  and  only  pleasure.  This  was  however 
obstructed  and  embittered  by  two  considerations,  which 
against  my  will  often  invaded  my  thoughts.  One  would 
have  been  intolerable  (but  that  indeed  seldom  troubled 
me)  was,  that  I  must  one  day  leave  my  darling  treasure. 
The  other  haunted  me  continually,  viz.  that  my  riches  were 
no  greater.  However,  I  comforted  myself  against  this 
reflection,  by  an  assurance  that  they  would  increase  daily: 
on  which  head,  my  hopes  were  so  extensive,  that  I  may  say 
with  Virgil. 

Ills  ego  ncc  meias  rcrum  nee  tempora  pono. 
"  Indeed,  I  am  convinced  that  had  I  possessed  the  whole 
globe  of  earth,  save  one  single  drachma,  which  I  had  been 
certain  never  to  be  master  of,  I  am  convinced,  I  say,  that 
single  drachma,  would  have  given  me  more  uneasiness 
than  all  the  rest  could  afford  me  pleasure. 

"  To  say  the  truth,  between  my  solicitude  in  contriving 
schemes  to  procure  money,  and  my  extreme  anxiety  in  pre- 
serving it,  I  never  had  one  moment  of  ease  while  awake, 
nor  of  quiet  when  in  my  sleep.  In  all  the  characters 
through  which  I  have  passed,  I  have  never  undergone  half 
the  misery  I  suffered  in  this,  and  indeed  Minos  seemed 
to  be  of  the  same  opinion :  for  while  I  stood  trembling  and 
shaking  in  expectation  of  my  sentence,  he  bid  me  go  back 
about  my  business;  for  that  nobody  was  to  be  d — n'd  in 
more  worlds  than  one.  And,  indce<l,  I  have  since  learnt, 
that  the  devil  will  not  receive  a  miser." 


WORLD  TO  THE  NEXT,  &c.  263 


CHAPTER  XII. 

■pp/iai  haTppened  to  Julian  in  the  characters  of  a  General,  an  Heir, 
a  Carpenter,  and  a  Beau. 

"  The  next  step  I  took  into  the  world  was  at  Appollonia 
in  Thrace;  where  I  was  born  of  a  beautiful  Greek  slave, 
who  was  the  mistress  of  Eutyches,  a  great  favourite  of  the 
emperor  Zeno.  That  prince,  at  his  restoration,  gave  me 
the  command  of  a  cohort,  I  being  then  but  fifteen  years  of 
age;  and  a  little  afterwards,  before  I  had  even  seen  an 
army,  preferred  me,  over  the  heads  of  all  the  old  officers, 
to  be  a  tribune. 

"As  I  found  an  easy  access  to  the  emperor,  by  means  of 
my  father's  intimacy  with  him,  he  being  a  very  good  cour- 
tier, or,  in  other  words,  a  most  prostitute  flatterer;  so  I 
soon  ingratiated  myself  with  Zeno  and  so  well  imitated 
my  father  in  flattering  him,  that  he  would  never  part  with 
me  from  about  his  person.  So  that  the  first  armed  force  I 
ever  beheld,  was  that  with  which  Martian  surrounded  the 
palace,  where  I  was  then  shut  up  with  the  rest  of  the  court. 

"  I  was  afterwards  put  at  the  head  of  a  legion,  and  or- 
dered to  march  into  Syria,  with  Theodoric  the  Goth ;  that 
is,  I  mean  my  legion  was  so  ordered :  for,  as  to  myself,  I 
remained  at  court,  with  the  name  and  pay  of  a  general, 
without  the  labour  or  the  danger. 

"As  nothing  could  be  more  gay,  i.  e.  debauclied,  than 
Zeno's  court,  so  the  ladies  of  gay  disposition  had  great 
sway  in  it ;  particularly  one,  whose  name,  was  Fousta,  who, 
though  not  extremely  handsome,  was  by  her  wit  and 
sprightliness  very  agreeable  to  the  emperor.  With  her  I 
lived  in  good  correspondence,  and  we  together  disposed  of 
all  kinds  of  commissions  in  the  army,  not  to  those  who  had 
most  merit,  but  who  would  purchase  at  the  highest  rate. 
My  levee  was  now  prodigiously  thronged  by  officers,  who 
returned  from  the  campaigns;  who,  though  they  might 


2G4  A   JOUnXEY  FBOM   THIS 

have  been  convinced  by  daily  example,  how  ineffectual  a 
recommendation  their  services  were,  still  continued  inde- 
fatiirablo  in  attendance,  and  behaved  to  nie  with  as  much 
observance  and  respect,  as  I  should  have  ]x?en  entitled  to, 
for  making  their  fortunes,  while  I  suffered  them  and  their 
families  to  starve. 

"  Several  poets,  likewise,  addressed  verses  to  me,  in 
which  they  celebrated  my  military  achievements;  and 
what,  perhaps,  may  seem  strange  to  us  at  present,  I  re- 
ceived all  this  incense  with  most  gi-eedy  vanity,  without 
once  reflecting,  that  I  did  not  deserve  these  compliments, 
they  should  rather  put  me  in  mind  of  my  defects. 

"  My  father  was  now  dead,  and  I  became  so  absolute  in 
the  emperor's  grace,  that  one  unacquainted  with  courts 
could  scarce  believe  the  servility  with  which  all  kinds  of 
persons,  wdio  entered  the  walls  of  the  palace,  behaved  to- 
wards me.  A  bow,  a  smile,  a  nod  from  me,  as  I  passed 
through  cringing  crowds,  were  esteemed  as  signal  favours, 
but  a  gracious  word  made  any  one  happy ;  and,  indeed,  had 
this  real  benefit  attending  it,  that  it  drew  on  the  person,  on 
whom  it  was  bestowed,  a  very  great  degree  of  respect  from 
all  others ;  for  these  are  of  current  value  in  courts,  and  like 
notes  in  trading  communities,  are  assignable  from  one  to 
the  other.  The  smile  of  a  court  favourite  immediately  raises 
the  person  who  receives  it,  and  gives  a  value  to  his  smile 
when  conferred  on  an  inferior :  thus  the  smile  is  transferred 
from  one  to  the  other,  and  the  great  man  at  last  is  the 
person  to  discount  it.  For  instance,  a  very  low  fellow  hath 
a  desire  for  a  place.  To  whom  is  he  to  apply  ?  Not  to  the 
great  man ;  for  to  him  he  hath  no  access.  He  therefore 
applies  to  A,  who  is  the  creature  of  B,  who  is  the  tool  of 
C,  who  is  the  flatterer  of  D,  who  is  tlie  catamite  of  E,  who 
is  the  pimp  of  F,  who  is  the  bully  of  G,  who  is  the  buffoon 
of  I,  who  is  the  husband  of  K,  who  is  the  whore  of  L,  who 
is  the  bastard  of  Isl,  who  is  the  instrument  of  the  great 
man.    Thus  the  smile  descending  regularly  from  the  great 


WORLD  TO  THE  NEXT,  £c.  2G5 

man  to  A,  is  discounted  back  again,  and  at  last  paid  by  the 
great  man. 

"  It  is  manifest,  that  a  court  wonld  subsist  as  difficulty 
without  this  kind  of  coin,  as  a  trading  city  without  paper 
credit.  Indeed,  they  differ  in  this,  that  their  value  is  not 
quite  so  certain,  and  a  favourite  may  protest  his  smile 
without  the  danger  of  bankruptcy. 

"  In  the  midst  of  all  this  glory,  the  emperor  died,  and 
Anastasius  was  preferred  to  the  crown.  As  it  was  yet  uncer- 
tain whether  I  should  not  continue  in  favour,  I  was  re- 
ceived as  usual  at  my  entrance  into  the  palace,  to  pay  my 
respects  to  the  new  emperor ;  but  I  was  no  sooner  rumped 
by  him,  than  I  received  the  same  compliment  from  all  the 
rest ;  the  whole  room,  like  a  regiment  of  soldiers,  turning 
their  backs  to  me  all  at  once,  my  smile  now  was  become  of 
equal  value  with  the  note  of  a  broken  banker,  and  every 
one  was  as  cautious  not  to  receive  it. 

"  I  made  as  much  haste  as  possible  from  the  court,  and 
shortly  after  from  the  city,  retreating  to  the  place  of  my 
nativity,  where  I  spent  the  remainder  of  my  days  in  a 
retired  life  in  husbandry,  the  only  amusement  for  which 
I  was  qualified,  having  neither  learning  nor  virtue. 

"  ^Vlien  I  came  to  the  gate,  Minos  again  seemed  at  first 
doubtful,  but  at  length  dismissed  me,  saying,  though  I  had 
been  guilty  of  many  heinous  crimes,  in  as  much  as  I  had, 
though  a  general,  never  been  concerned  in  spilling  human 
blood,  I  might  return  again  to  earth. 

"  I  was  now  again  born  in  Alexandria,  and,  by  great  acci- 
dent entering,  into  the  womb  of  my  daughter-in-law,  came 
forth  my  own  grandson,  inheriting  that  fortune  which  I 
had  before  amassed. 

"  Extravagance  was  now  as  notoriously  my  vice,  as  ava- 
rice had  been  formerly ;  and  I  spent,  in  a  very  short  life, 
what  had  cost  me  the  labour  of  a  very  long  one  to  rake  to- 
gether. Perhaps,  you  will  think  my  present  condition  was 
more  to  be  envied  than  my  former,  but  upon  my  word  it  was 


200  A  j(jiiL\i:y  fj:um  riiLi 

very  little  so;  for,  by  possessing  cvcrytliing  almost  before  I 
desired  it,  I  could  hardly  ever  say,  I  enjoyed  my  wish :  I 
scarce  ever  knew  the  delight  of  satisfying  a  craving  ap- 
petite. Besides,  as  I  never  once  thought,  my  mind  was  use- 
less to  me,  and  I  was  an  absolute  stranger  to  all  the  pleas- 
ures arising  from  it.  Xor,  indeed,  did  my  education 
qualify  me  for  any  delicacy  in  other  enjoyments:  so  that 
in  the  midst  of  plenty  I  loathed  ever>'thing.  Taste  for 
elegance,  I  had  none ;  and  the  greatest  of  corporeal  blisses 
I  felt  no  more  from,  than  the  lowest  animal.  In  a  word,  as 
while  a  miser,  I  had  plenty  without  daring  to  use  it,  so 
now  I  had  it  without  appetite. 

"  But  if  I  was  not  very  happy  in  the  height  of  my  enjoy- 
ment, so  I  afterwards  became  perfectly  miserable;  being 
soon  overtaken  by  disease,  and  reduced  to  distress,  till  at 
leng-th,  with  a  broken  constitution,  and  broken  heart,  I 
ended  my  wretched  days  in  a  jail :  nor  can  I  think  the  sen- 
tence of  Minos  too  mild,  who  condemned  me,  after  having 
taking  a  large  dose  of  avarice,  to  wander  three  years  on  the 
]>anks  of  Cocytus,  with  the  knowledge  of  having  spent  the 
fortune  in  the  person  of  the  grandson,  which  I  had  raised 
in  that  of  the  grandfather. 

"  The  place  of  my  birth,  on  my  return  to  the  world,  was 
Constantinople,  where  my  father  was  a  carpenter.  The 
first  thing  I  remember  was,  the  triumph  of  Bclisarius ; 
which  was,  indeed,  a  most  noble  show:  but  nothing  pleased 
me  so  much  as  the  figure  of  Gelimer,  king  of  the  African 
Vandals,  who  being  led  captive  on  this  occasion,  reflecting 
with  disdain  on  the  mutation  of  his  own  fortune,  and  on 
the  ridiculous  empty  ]X'ni])  of  the  conqueror,  cried  out, 

VaXITY^  vanity^  all  is  Mi:JtE  VANITY. 

"  I  was  l)red  up  to  my  father's  trade,  and  you  may  easily 
believe  so  low  a  sphere  could  produce  no  adventures  worth 
your  notice.  However,  I  married  a  woman  I  liked,  and 
who  proved  a  very  toleral)le  wife.  My  days  were  passed 
in  hard  labour,  but  this  procured  me  health,  and  I  enjoyed 


WORLD  TO  TEE  NEXT,  &c.  2G7 

a  homely  supper  at  night  with  my  wife,  with  more  pleasure 
than  I  apprehend  greater  persons  find  at  their  luxurious 
meals.  My  life  had  scarce  any  variety  in  it,  and  at  my 
death,  I  advanced  to  Minos  with  great  confidence  of  enter- 
ing the  gate :  but  I  was  unhappily  obliged  to  discover  some 
frauds  I  had  been  guilty  of  in  the  measure  of  my  w^ork, 
when  I  worked  by  the  foot,  as  well  as  my  laziness,  when 
I  was  employed  by  the  day.  On  which  account,  when  I 
attempted  to  pass,  the  angry  judge  laid  hold  on  me  by  the 
shoulders,  and  turned  me  back  so  violently,  that  had  I  had 
a  neck  of  flesh  and  bone,  I  believe  he  would  have  broke  it." 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

Julian  passes  into  a  Fop. 

"  My  scene  of  action  was  Eome.  I  was  born  into  a  noble 
family,  and  heir  to  a  considerable  fortune.  On  which  my 
parents,  thinking  I  should  not  want  any  talents,  resolved 
very  kindly  and  wisely  to  throw  none  away  upon  me.  The 
only  instructors  of  my  youth  w^ere  therefore  one  Saltator, 
who  taught  me  several  motions  for  my  legs ;  and  one  Ficus, 
whose  business  was  to  show  me  the  cleanest  way  (as  he 
called  it)  of  cutting  off  a  man's  head.  When  I  w^as  well 
accomplished  in  these  sciences,  I  thought  nothing  more 
wanting,  but  what  was  to  be  furnished  by  the  several 
mechanics  in  Eome,  who  dealt  in  dressing  and  adorning 
the  pope.  Being,  therefore,  well  equipped  with  all  which 
their  art  could  produce,  I  became  at  the  age  of  twenty  a 
complete  finished  beau.  And  now  during  forty-five  years 
I  dressed,  I  sang  and  danced,  and  danced  and  sang,  I 
bowed  and  ogled,  and  ogled  and  bowed,  till,  in  the  sixty- 
sixth  year  of  my  age,  I  got  cold  by  overheating  myself  with 
dancing,  and  died. 

"  Minos  told  me  as  I  Avas  unworthy  of  Elysium,  so  I  was 
too  insignificant  to  be  damned,  and  therefore  bade  me  walk 
back  again." 


2G8      A   JOURNEY   FROM   THIS 

CHAPTER  XIV. 

Adventures  in  the  person  of  a  Monk. 

"  Fortune  now  placed  nie  in  the  character  of  a  younger 
brother  of  a  good  house,  and  I  was  in  my  youth  sent  to 
school ;  hut  learning  was  now  at  so  low  an  ebb,  that  my 
master  himself  could  hardly  construe  a  sentence  of  Latin ; 
and  as  for  Greek,  he  could  not  read  it.  With  very  little 
knowledge  therefore,  and  with  altogether  as  little  virtue, 
I  was  set  apart  for  the  church,  and  at  the  proper  age  com- 
menced monk.  I  lived  many  years  retired  in  a  cell,  a  life 
very  agreeable  to  the  gloominess  of  my  temper,  which  was 
much  inclined  to  despise  the  world ;  that  is,  in  other  words, 
to  envy  all  men  of  superior  fortune  and  qualifications, 
and  in  general  to  hate  and  detest  the  human  species.  Not- 
withstanding which,  I  could,  on  proper  occasions,  submit 
to  flatter  the  vilest  fellow  in  nature,  which  I  did  one 
Stephen  an  eunuch,  a  favourite  of  the  emperor  Justin- 
ian II,  one  of  the  wickedest  wretches  whom  perhaps  the 
world  ever  saw.  I  not  only  wrote  a  panegyric  on  this  man, 
but  I  commended  him  as  a  pattern  to  all  others  in  my 
sermons,  by  which  means  I  so  greatly  ingratiated  myself 
with  him,  that  he  introduced  me  to  the  emperor's  presence, 
where  I  j^revailed  so  far  by  the  same  methods,  that  I  was 
shortly  taken  from  my  cell,  and  preferred  to  a  place  at 
court.  I  was  no  sooner  established  in  the  favour  of  Justin- 
ian, than  I  prompted  him  to  all  kind  of  cruelty.  As  I  was 
of  a  sour,  morose  temper,  and  hated  nothing  more  than  the 
symptoms  of  happiness  appearing  in  any  countenance,  I 
represented  all  kind  of  diversion  and  amusement  as  the 
most  horrid  sins.  -  I  inveigjtied  against  cheerfulness  as  levi- 
ty, and  encouraged  nothing  but  gravity,  or  to  confess  the 
truth  to  you,  hypocrisy.  The  unhappy  emperor  followed 
my  advice,  and  incensed  the  people  by  such  repeated  bar- 
barities, that  he  was  at  last  deposed  by  them  and  banished. 


WORLD  TO  TEE  NEXT,  &c.  2G9 

"  I  now  retired  again  to  my  cell  (for  historians  mistake 
in  saying  I  was  put  to  death),  where  I  remained  safe  from 
the  danger  of  the  irritated  mob,  whom  I  cursed  in  my  own 
heart,  as  much  as  they  could  curse  me. 

"Justinian,  after  three  years  of  his  banishment,  returned 
to  Constantinople  in  disguise,  and  paid  me  a  visit.  I  at 
first  affected  not  to  know  him,  and  without  the  least  com- 
punction of  gratitude  for  his  former  favours,  intended  not 
to  receive  him,  till  a  thought  immediately  suggesting  itself 
to  me,  how  I  might  convert  him  to  my  advantage,  I  pre- 
tended to  recollect  him ;  and  blaming  the  shortness  of  my 
memory  and  badness  of  my  eyes  I  sprung  forward  and 
embraced  him  with  great  affection. 

"My  design  was  to  betray  him  to  Apsimar,  who,  I 
doubted  not,  would  generously  reward  such  a  service.  I 
therefore  very  earnestly  requested  him  to  spend  the  whole 
evening  with  me;  to  which  he  consented.  I  formed  an 
excuse  for  leaving  him  a  few  minutes,  and  ran  away  to  the 
palace  to  acquaint  Apsimar  with  the  guest  whom  I  had  then 
in  my  cell.  He  presently  ordered  a  guard  to  go  with  me 
and  seize  him :  but  whether  the  length  of  my  stay  gave  him 
any  suspicion,  or  whether  he  changed  his  purpose  after  my 
departure,  I  know  not :  for  at  my  return,  we  found  he  had 
given  us  the  slip;  nor  could  we  with  the  most  diligent 
search  discover  him. 

"  Apsimar  being  disappointed  of  his  prey,  now  raged  at 
me ;  at  first  denouncing  the  most  dreadful  vengeance,  if  I 
did  not  produce  the  deposed  monarch.  However,  by  sooth- 
ing his  passion  when  at  the  highest,  and  afterwards  by 
canting  and  flattery,  I  made  a  shift  to  escape  his  fury. 

"When Justinian wasrestored, I  very  confidently  went  to 
wish  him  joy  of  his  restoration :  but  it  seems  he  had  unfor- 
tunately heard  of  my  treachery,  so  that  he  at  first  received 
me  coldly,  and  afterwards  upbraided  me  openly  with  what 
I  had  done.  I  preserved  stoutly  in  denying  it,  as  I  knew 
no  evidence  could  be  produced  against  me ;  till  finding  him 


270  .4   JOURNEY  FROM   THIS 

irreconcilable,  I  Lotook  myself  to  reviling'  liini  in  my 
sermons,  and  on  every  other  occasion,  :is  an  enemy  to  the 
clinreh,  and  good  men,  and  as  an  infidel,  an  heretic,  an 
atheist,  a  heathen,  and  an  Arian.  This  I  did  immediately 
on  his  return,  and  before  he  gave  those  flagrant  proofs  of 
his  inhnnianity,  \vhicli  afterwards  sufficiently  verified  all 
I  had  said. 

"  Luckily,  I  died  on  the  same  day,  when  a  great  number 
of  those  forces  which  Justinian  had  sent  against  the 
Thracian  Bosphorous,  and  who  had  executed  such  unheard- 
of  cruelties  there,  perished.  As  every  one  of  these  was  cast 
into  the  bottomless  pit,  Minos  was  so  tired  with  condemna- 
tion, that  he  proclaimed  that  all  present,  who  had  not  been 
concerned  in  that  bloody  expedition,  might,  if  they  pleased, 
return  to  the  other  world.  I  took  him  at  his  word,  and 
presently  turning  about,  began  my  journey." 


CHAPTER  XV. 

Julian  passes  into  the  character  of  a  Fiddler. 

"  Ilo:me  was  now  the  seat  of  my  nativity.  My  mother  was 
tn  African,  a  woman  of  no  great  beauty,  but  a  favourite,  I 
suppose  from  her  piety,  to  pope  Gregory  II.  Who  was  my 
father,  I  know  not :  but  I  believe  no  very  considerable  man  : 
for  after  the  death  of  that  pope,  who  was,  out  of  his  relig- 
ion, a  very  good  friend  of  my  mother,  we  fell  into  great 
distress,  and  were  at  length  reduced  to  walk  the  streets  of 
Rome ;  nor  had  either  of  us  any  other  support  but  a  fiddle, 
on  which  I  played  with  pretty  tolerable  skill :  for  as  my 
genius  turned  naturally  to  music,  so  I  had  been  in  my 
youth  very  early  instructed  at  the  expense  of  the  good 
pope.  This  afforded  us  but  a  very  poor  livelihood:  for 
though  I  had  often  a  numerous  crowd  of  hearers,  few  ever 
thought  themselves  obliged  to  contribute  the  smallest  pit- 


WOBLD  TO  THE  NEXT,  &c.  271 

tance  to  the  poor  starving  wretch  who  had  given  thein 
pleasure.  Nay,  some  of  the  graver  sort,  after  an  hour's 
attention  to  my  music,  have  gone  away  shaking  their  heads, 
and  crying,  it  was  a  shame  such  vagabonds  were  suffered 
to  stay  in  the  city. 

"  To  say  the  truth,  I  am  confident  the  fiddle  would  not 
have  kept  us  alive,  had  Ave  entirely  depended  on  the  gener- 
osity of  my  hearers.  My  mother  therefore  was  forced  to 
use  her  own  industry ;  and  while  I  was  soothing  the  ears  of 
the  crowd,  she  applied  to  their  pockets,  and  that  generally 
with  such  good  success  that  we  now  began  to  enjoy  a  very 
comfortable  subsistence ;  and  indeed,  had  we  had  the  least 
prudence  or  forecast,  might  have  soon  acquired  enough  to 
enable  us  to  quit  this  dangerous  and  dishonourable  way  of 
life :  but  I  know  not  what  is  the  reason,  that  money  got  with 
labor  and  safety  is  constantly  preserved,  while  the  produce 
of  danger  and  ease  is  conmionly  spent  as  easily,  and  often 
as  wickedly,  as  acquired.  Thus  we  proportioned  our 
expenses  rather  by  what  we  had  than  what  we  wanted,  or 
even  desired;  and  on  obtaining  a  considerable  booty,  we 
have  even  forced  nature  into  the  most  profligate  extrava- 
gance ;  and  have  been  wicked  without  inclination. 

"  We  carried  on  this  method  of  thievery  for  a  long  time 
without  detection :  but  as  Fortune  generally  leaves  persons 
of  extraordinary  ingenuity  in  the  lurch  at  last ;  so  did  she 
us :  for  my  poor  mother  was  taken  in  the  fact,  and  together 
with  myself,  as  her  accomplice,  hurried  before  a  magis- 
trate. 

"  Luckily  for  us,  the  person  who  was  to  be  our  judge,  was 
the  greatest  lover  of  music  in  the  whole  city,  and  had  often 
sent  for  me  to  play  to  him,  for  which,  as  he  had  given  me 
very  small  rewards,  perhaps  his  gratitude  now  moved  him : 
but,  whatever  w^as  his  motive,  he  browbeat  the  informers 
against  us,  and  treated  their  evidence  with  so  little  favour, 
that  their  mouths  were  soon  stopped,  and  we  dismissed  with 
honour ;  acquitted,  I  should  rather  have  said :  for  we  were 


272  A   JOURNEY  FROM   THIS 

not  suffered  to  depart,  till  I  bad  given  the  judge  several 
tunes  on  the  fiddle. 

"  Wo  escaped  the  better  on  this  occasion,  because  the  per- 
son robbed  happened  to  be  a  poet;  which  gave  the  judge, 
who  was  a  facetious  person,  many  opportunities  of  jesting. 
lie  said,  poets  and  musicians  should  agree  together,  seeing 
they  had  married  sisters;  which  he  afterwards  explained 
to  be  the  sister  arts.  And  when  the  piece  of  gold  was  pro- 
duced, he  burst  into  a  loud  laugh,  and  said  it  must  be  the 
golden  age,  when  poets  had  gold  in  their  pockets,  and  in 
that  age,  there  could  be  no  robbers.  He  made  many  more 
jests  of  the  same  kind,  but  a  small  taste  will  suffice. 

"  It  is  a  common  saying  that  men  should  take  warning  by 
any  signal  delivery ;  but  I  cannot  approve  the  justice  of  it ; 
for  to  me  it  seems,  that  the  acquittal  of  a  guilty  person 
should  rather  inspire  him  with  confidence,  and  it  had  tins 
effect  on  us :  for  we  now  laughed  at  the  law,  and  despised 
its  punishments,  which  we  found  were  to  be  escaped  even 
against  positive  evidence.  We  imagined  the  late  example 
was  rather  a  warning  to  the  accuser  than  the  criminal,  and 
accordingly  proceeded  in  the  most  impudent  and  flagitious 
manner. 

"  Among  other  robberies,  one  night  being  admitted  by  the 
servants  into  the  house  of  an  opulent  priest,  my  mother 
took  an  opportunity,  whilst  the  servants  were  dancing  to 
my  tunes,  to  convey  away  a  silver  vessel ;  this  she  did  with- 
out the  least  sacrilegious  intention:  but  it  seems  the  cup, 
which  was  a  pretty  large  one,  was  dedicated  to  holy  uses, 
and  only  borrowed  by  the  priest  on  an  entertainment  which 
he  made  for  some  of  his  brethren.  We  w^ere  immediately 
pursued  upon  this  robbery  (the  cup  being  taken  in  our  pos- 
session), and  carried  before  the  same  magistrate,  who  had 
before  behaved  to  us  with  so  much  gentleness :  but  his  coun- 
tenance was  now  changed ;  for  the  moment  the  priest  ap- 
peared against  us,  his  severity  was  as  remarkable  as  his 


WORLD  TO  THE  NEXT,  £c.  273 

candor  had  been  before,  and  we  were  both  ordered  to  be 
stripped  and  whipped  through  the  streets. 

"  This  sentence  was  excuted  with  great  severity,  the 
priest  himself  attending  and  encouraging  the  executioner, 
which  he  said  he  did  for  the  good  of  our  souls :  but  though 
our  backs  were  both  flayed,  neither  my  mother's  torments 
nor  my  own  afflicted  me  so  much,  as  the  indignity  offered 
to  my  poor  fiddle,  which  was  carried  in  triumph  before 
me,  and  treated  with  a  contempt  by  the  multitude,  intimat- 
ing a  great  scorn  for  the  science  I  had  the  honour  to  pro- 
fess ;  which,  as  it  is  one  of  the  noblest  inventions  of  men, 
and  as  I  had  been  always  in  the  highest  degree  proud  of 
my  excellence  in  it,  I  suffered  so  much  from  the  ill-treat- 
ment my  fiddle  received,  that  I  would  have  given  all  my 
remainder  of  skin  to  have  preserved  it  from  this  affront. 

"My  mother  survived  the  whipping  a  very  short  time ;  and 
I  was  now  reduced  to  great  distress  and  misery,  till  a  young 
Roman  of  considerable  rank  took  a  fancy  to  me,  received 
me  into  his  family,  and  conversed  with  me  in  the  utmost 
familiarity.  He  had  a  violent  attachment  to  music,  and 
would  learn  to  play  on  the  fiddle :  but  through  want  of  gen- 
ius for  the  science,  he  never  made  any  considerable 
progress.  However,  I  flattered  his  performance,  and  he 
grew  extravagantly  fond  of  me  for  so  doing.  Had  I  con- 
tinued this  behaviour,  I  might  possibly  have  repeaed  the 
greatest  advantages  from  his  kindness:  but  I  had  raised 
his  own  opinion  of  his  musical  abilities  so  high,  that  he  now 
began  to  prefer  his  skill  to  mine,  a  presumption  I  could  not 
bear.  One  day  as  we  were  playing  in  concert  he  was  hor- 
ribly out ;  nor  was  it  possible,  as  he  destroyed  the  harmony, 
to  avoid  telling  him  of  it.  Instead  of  receiving  my  correc- 
tion, he  answered,  it  was  my  blunder,  and  not  his,  and  that 
I  had  mistaken  the  key.  Such  an  affront  from  my  own 
scholar  was  beyond  human  patience ;  I  flew  into  a  violent 
passion,  I  flung  down  my  instrument  in  a  rage,  and  swore 
I  was  not  to  be  taught  music  at  my  age.  He  answered  with 
18 


274  A   JOURNEY  FROM   THIS 

as  mucli  warmtli,  nor  was  lie  to  be  instructed  by  a  strolling 
fitldler.  The  dispute  ended  in  a  challenge  to  play  a  prize 
before  judges.  This  wager  was  dctenuined  in  my  favor; 
but  the  purchase  was  a  dear  one ;  for  I  lost  my  friend  by 
it,  w^ho  now  twitting  me  with  all  his  kindness,  with  my 
former  ignominious  punishment,  and  the  destitute  condi- 
tion from  which  I  had  been  by  his  bounty  relieved,  dis- 
carded me  forever. 

"  While  I  lived  with  this  gentleman,  I  became  known, 
among  others,  to  Sabina,  a  lady  of  distinction,  and  who 
valued  herself  much  on  her  taste  for  music.  She  no  sooner 
heard  of  my  being  discarded  than  she  took  me  into  her 
house,  where  I  was  extremely  well  clothed  and  fed.  ]^ot- 
withstanding  which,  my  situation  was  far  from  agreeable : 
for  I  was  obliged  to  submit  to  her  constant  reprehensions 
before  company,  which  gave  me  the  greater  uneasiness, 
because  they  were  always  wrong ;  nor  am  I  certain  that  she 
did  not  by  these  provocations  contribute  to  my  death ;  for 
as  experience  had  taught  me  to  give  up  my  resentment  to 
my  bread,  so  my  passions,  for  want  of  outward  vent,  preyed 
inwardly  on  my  vitals,  and  perhaps  occasioned  the  distem- 
per of  which  I  sickened. 

"  The  lady, who,  amidst  all  the  faults  she  found,wasvery 
fond  of  me ;  nay,  probably  w^as  the  fonder  of  me  the  more 
faults  she  found ;  immediately  called  in  the  aid  of  three 
celebrated  physicians.  The  doctors  (being  well  fee'd) 
made  me  seven  visits  in  three  days ;  and  two  of  them  were 
at  the  door  to  visit  me  the  eighth  time,  when,  being  ac- 
quainted that  I  was  just  dead,  they  shook  their  heads  and 
departed. 

''WHicn  I  came  to  Minos,  he  asked  me  with  a  smile, 
whether  I  had  brought  my  fiddle  with  me;  and,  receiving 
an  answer  in  the  negative,  he  bid  me  got  about  my  busi- 
ness, saying,  it  was  well  for  me  that  the  devil  was  no  lover 
of  music." 


WORLD  TO  TEE  NEXT,  &c.  275 


CHAPTEE  XVI. 

The  history  of  the  Wise  Man. 

"  I  NOW  returned  to  Rome,  but  in  a  very  different  char- 
acter. Fortune  had  now  allotted  me  a  serious  part  to  act. 
I  had  even  in  my  infancy  a  grave  disposition,  nor  was  I 
ever  seen  to  smile ;  which  infused  an  opinion  into  all  about 
me,  that  I  was  a  child  of  great  solidity:  some  foreseeing 
that  I  should  be  a  judge,  and  others  a  bishop.  At  two  years 
old  my  father  presented  me  with  a  rattle,  which  I  broke  to 
pieces  with  great  indignation.  This,  the  good  parent  being 
extremely  wise,  regarded  as  an  eminent  symptom  of  my 
wisdom,  and  cried  out  in  a  kind  of  ecstasy,  '  Well  said, 
boy !     I  warrant  thou  makest  a  great  man.' 

"At  school,  I  could  never  be  persuaded  to  play  with  my 
mates :  not  that  I  spent  my  hours  in  learning,  to  which  I 
was  not  in  the  least  addicted,  nor  indeed  had  I  any  talents 
for  it.  However,  the  solemnity  of  my  carriage  won  so 
much  on  my  master,  who  was  a  most  sagacious  person,  that 
I  was  his  chief  favourite,  and  my  example  on  all  occasions 
was  recommended  to  the  other  boys,  which  jS.lled  them  with 
envy,  and  me  with  pleasure:  but  though  they  envied  me, 
they  all  paid  me  that  involuntary  respect,  which  it  is  the 
curse  attending  this  iDcrson  to  bear  towards  its  object. 

"  I  had  now  obtained  universally  the  character  of  a  very 
wise  young  man,  which  I  did  not  altogether  purchase  with- 
out pains ;  for  the  restraint  I  laid  on  myself  in  abstaining 
from  the  several  diversions  adapted  to  my  years,  cost  me 
many  a  yearning:  but  the  pride  which  I  inwardly  enjoyed 
in  the  fancied  dignity  of  my  character,  made  me  some 
amends. 

"  Thus  I  past  on,  without  anything  very  memorable  hap- 
pening to  me,  till  I  arrived  at  the  age  of  twenty-three; 
when  unfortunately  I  fell  acquainted  with  a  young  :N"ea- 
politan  lady,  whose  name  was  Ariadne.     Her  beauty  wag 


276  A  JOURNEY  FROM   THIS 

so  exquisite,  that  her  first  sight  made  a  violent  impression 
on  me;  this  was  again  improved  by  her  behaviour,  which 
was  most  genteel,  easy,  and  affable :  lastly,  her  conversa- 
tion completed  the  conquest.  In  this  she  discovered  a 
strong  and  lively  understanding,  with  the  sweetest  and  most 
benign  temper.  This  lovely  creature  was  about  eighteen 
when  I  first  unhappily  beheld  her  at  Rome,  in  a  visit  to  a 
relation,  with  whom  I  had  great  intimacy.  As  our  inter- 
views at  first  were  extremely  frequent,  my  passions  were 
captivated  before  I  apprehended  the  least  danger;  and  the 
sooner,  probably,  as  the  young  lady  herself,  to  whom  I 
consulted  every  method  of  recommendation,  was  not  dis- 
pleased Avith  my  being  her  admirer. 

"  Ariadne  having  spent  three  months  at  Rome,  now  re- 
turned to  IvTaplcs,  bearing  my  heart  with  her :  on  the  other 
hand,  I  had  all  the  assurances,  consistent  with  the  constraint 
under  which  the  most  perfect  modesty  lays  a  young  woman, 
that  her  own  heart  was  not  entirely  unaffected.  I  soon 
found  her  absence  gave  me  an  uneasiness  not  easy  to  be 
borne,  or  to  remove.  I  now  first  applied  to  diversions  (of 
the  graver  sort,  particularly  to  music),  but  in  vain;  they 
rather  raised  my  desires,  and  heightened  my  anguish.  My 
passion  at  length  grew  so  violent,  that  I  began  to  think  of 
satisfying  it.  As  the  first  step  to  this,  I  cautiously  enquired 
into  the  circumstances  of  Ariadne's  parents,  with  which 
I  was  hitherto  unacquainted:  though,  indeed,  I  did  not 
apprehend  they  were  extremely  great,  notwithstanding  the 
handsome  appearance  of  their  daughter  at  Rome.  Upon 
examination,  her  fortune  exceeded  my  expectation ;  but  was 
not  sufficient  to  justify  my  marriage  with  her,  in  the  opin- 
ion of  the  wise  and  prudent.  I  had  now^  a  violent  struggle 
between  wisdom  and  happiness,  in  which,  after  several 
grievous  pangs,  wisdom  got  the  better.  I  could  by  no 
means  prevail  with  myself  to  sacrifice  that  character  of 
profound  wisdom,  which  I  had  with  such  uniform  conduct 
obtained,   and  with  such  caution  hitherto  preserved.     I 


WORLD  TO  THE  NEXT,  £c.  277 

therefore  resolved  to  conquer  my  affection,  wliatever  it 
cost  me ;  and  indeed  it  did  not  cost  me  a  little. 

''While  I  was  engaged  in  this  conflict  (for  it  lasted  a  long 
time,)  Ariadne  returned  to  Rome:  her  presence  was  a  ter- 
rible enemy  to  my  wisdom,  which  even  in  her  absence  had 
with  great  difficulty  stood  its  ground.  It  seems  (as  she 
hath  since  told  me  in  Elysium  with  much  merriment)  I 
had  made  the  same  impressions  on  her  which  she  had  made 
on  me.  Indeed,  I  believe  my  wisdom  would  have  been 
totally  subdued  by  this  surprise,  had  it  not  cunningly  sug- 
gested to  me  a  method  of  satisfying  my  passion  without 
doing  any  injury  to  my  reputation.  This  was  by  engaging 
her  privately  as  a  mistress,  which  was  at  that  time  reputa- 
ble enough  at  Rome,  provided  the  affair  was  managed  with 
an  air  of  slyness  and  gravity,  though  the  secret  was  known 
to  the  whole  city. 

"  I  immediately  set  about  this  project,  and  employed 
every  art  and  engine  to  effect  it.  I  had  particularly  bribed 
her  priest,  and  an  old  female  acquaintance  and  distant  rela- 
tion of  hers  into  my  interest :  but  all  was  in  vain ;  her  vir- 
tue opposed  the  passion  in  her  breast,  as  strongly  as  wisdom 
had  opposed  it  in  mine.  She  received  my  proposals  with 
the  utmost  disdain,  and  presently  refused  to  see  or  hear 
from  me  any  more. 

"  She  returned  again  to  jS[aples,  and  left  me  in  a  worse 
condition  than  before.  My  days  I  now  passed  with  the 
most  irksome  uneasiness,  and  my  nights  were  restless  and 
sleepless.  The  story  of  our  amour  was  now  pretty  public^ 
and  the  ladies  talked  of  our  match  as  certain ;  but  my 
acquaintance  denied  their  assent,  saying,  ISFo,  no,  he  is 
too  wise  to  marry  so  imprudently.  This  their  opinion  gave 
me,  I  own,  very  great  pleasure :  but  to  say  the  truth,  scarce 
compensated  the  pangs  I  suffered  to  preserve  it. 

"  One  day,  while  I  was  balancing  with  myself,  and  had 
almost  resolved  to  enjoy  my  happiness,  at  the  price  of  my 
character,  a  friend  brought  me  word,  that  Ariadne  was 


278  A    JOURNEY  FROM  THIS 

married.  Tliis  news  struck  mc  to  tlic  soul ;  and  though  I 
had  resolution  enough  to  maintain  my  gravity  before  him 
(for  which  I  suffered  not  a  little  the  more),  the  moment 
I  was  alone,  I  threw  myself  into  the  most  violent  fit  of 
despair,  and  would  willingly  have  parted  with  wisdom, 
fortune,  and  everything  else  to  have  retrieved  her:  but 
that  was  impossible,  and  I  had  now  nothing  but  time  to 
hope  a  cure  from.  This  was  very  tedious  in  performing 
it,  and  the  longer  as  Ariadne  had  married  a  Roman  cava- 
lier, was  now  become  my  near  neighbour,  and  I  had  the 
mortification  of  seeing  her  make  the  best  of  wives,  and  of 
having  the  happiness,  which  I  had  lost,  every  day  before 
my  eyes. 

"  If  I  suffered  so  much  on  account  of  my  wisdom,  in  hav- 
ing refused  Ariadne,  I  was  not  much  more  obliged  to  it 
for  procuring  me  a  rich  widow,  who  was  recommended  to 
me  by  an  old  friend,  as  a  very  prudent  match,  and,  indeed, 
so  it  was ;  her  fortune  being  superior  to  mine,  in  the  same 
proportion  as  that  of  Ariadne  had  been  inferior.  I  there- 
fore embraced  this  proposal,  and  my  character  of  wisdom 
soon  pleaded  so  effectually  for  me  with  the  widow,  who 
was  herself  a  woman  of  great  gravity  and  discretion,  that  I 
Boon  succeeded;  and  as  soon  as  decency  would  permit  (of 
which  this  lady  was  the  strictest  observer),  we  were  mar- 
ried, being  the  second  day  of  the  second  week,  of  the  second 
year,  after  her  husband's  death:  for  she  said,  she  thought 
some  period  of  time  above  the  year  had  a  great  air  of  de- 
corum. 

"  But,  prudent  as  this  lady  was,  she  made  me  miserable. 
Her  person  was  far  from  being  lovely ;  but  her  temper  was 
intolerable.  During  fifteen  years'  habitation,  I  never 
passed  a  single  day  without  heartily  cursing  her,  and  the 
hour  in  which  we  came  together.  The  only  comfort  I 
received,  in  the  midst  of  the  highest  torments,  was  from 
continually  hearing  the  prudence  of  my  match  commended 
by  all  my  acquaintance. 


WORLD  TO  THE  NEXT,  &c.  279 

"  Thus  you  see,  in  the  affairs  of  love,  I  bought  the  repu- 
tation of  wisdom  pretty  dear.  In  other  matters,  I  had  it 
somewhat  cheaper ;  not  that  hypocrisy,  which  was  the  price 
I  gave  for  it,  gives  one  no  pain.  I  have  refused  myseK  a 
thousand  little  amusements  with  a  feigned  contempt,  while 
I  have  really  had  an  inclination  to  them.  I  have  often 
almost  choked  myself  to  restrain  from  laughing  at  a  jest, 
and  (which  was  perhaps  to  myself  the  least  hurtful  of  all 
my  hypocrisy)  have  heartily  enjoyed  a  book  in  my  closet, 
which  I  have  spoke  with  detestation  of  in  public.  To  sum 
up  my  history  in  short,  as  I  had  few  adventures  worth 
remembering,  my  whole  life  was  one  constant  lie;  and 
happy  would  it  have  been  for  me,  if  I  could  as  thoroughly 
have  imposed  on  myself,  as  I  did  on  others :  for  reflection, 
at  every  turn,  would  often  remind  me  I  was  not  so  wise  as 
people  thought  me;  and  this  considerably  embittered  the 
pleasure  I  received  from  the  public  commendation  of  my 
wisdom.  This  self-admonition,  like  a  memento  mori  or  mor- 
talis  es,  must  be,  in  my  opinion,  a  very  dangerous  enemy  to 
flattery ;  indeed,  a  weight  sufficient  to  counterbalance  all  the 
false  praise  of  the  world.  But  whether  it  be,  that  the  gen- 
erality of  wise  men  do  not  reflect  at  all,  or  whether  they 
have,  from  a  constant  imposition  on  others,  contracted  such 
a  habit  of  deceit  as  to  deceive  themselves,  I  will  not  deter- 
mine :  it  is,  I  believe,  most  certain  that  very  few  wise  men 
know  themselves  what  fools  they  are  more  than  the  world 
doth.  Good  gods!  could  one  but  see  what  passes  in  the 
closet  of  wisdom !  how  ridiculous  a  sight  must  it  be  to  be- 
hold the  wise  man,  who  despises  gratifying  his  palate, 
devouring  custard;  the  sober  wise  man  with  his  dram- 
bottle;  or,  the  anticarnalist  (if  I  may  be  allowed  the  ex- 
pression) chuckling  over  a  b — dy  book  or  picture,  and  per- 
haps caressing  his  housemaid ! 

But  to  conclude  a  character,  in  which  I  apprehend  I 
made  as  absurd  a  figure,  as  in  any  in  which  I  trod  the  stage 


280  A   JOURNEY  FROM  THIS 

of  earth,  my  wisdom  at  last  put  an  end  to  itself;  that  is, 
occasioned  my  dissolution. 

"A  relation  of  mine  in  the  eastern  part  of  tlio  empire  dis- 
inherited his  son,  and  left  me  his  heir.  This  happened  in 
the  depth  of  winter,  when  I  was  in  nij  grand  climacteric, 
and  had  just  recovered  of  a  dangerous  disease.  As  I  had 
all  the  reason  imaginable  to  apprehend  the  family  of  the 
deceased  would  conspire  against  me,  and  embezzle  as  much 
as  they  could,  I  advised  with  a  grave  and  wise  friend,  what 
was  proper  to  be  done;  whether  I  should  go  myself,  or 
employ  a  notary  on  this  occasion,  and  defer  my  journey  to 
the  spring.  To  say  the  truth,  I  was  most  inclined  to  the 
latter;  the  rather  as  my  circumstances  were  extremely 
flourishing,  as  I  was  advanced  in  years,  and  had  not  one 
person  in  the  world,  to  whom  I  should  w^ith  pleasure  be- 
queath any  fortune  at  my  death. 

"  My  friend  told  me,  he  thought  my  question  admitted  of 
no  manner  of  doubt  or  debate ;  that  common  prudence 
absolutely  required  my  immediate  departure ;  adding,  that 
if  the  same  good  luck  had  happened  to  him,  he  would  have 
been  already  on  his  journey:  for,  continued  he,  a  man  who 
knows  the  world  so  well  as  you,  would  be  inexcusable  to 
give  persons  such  an  opportunity  of  cheating  you,  who, 
you  must  be  assured,  will  be  too  well  inclined :  and  as  for 
employing  a  notary,  remember  that  excellent  maxim,  Ne 
facias  per  aliuni,  quod  fieri  potest  per  te.  I  own  the  bad- 
ness of  the  season,  and  your  very  late  recovery,  are  unlucky 
circumstances :  but  a  wise  man  must  get  over  difficulties, 
when  necessity  obliges  him  to  encounter  them. 

"  I  was  immediately  determined  by  this  opinion.  The 
duty  of  a  wise  man  mado  an  irresistible  impression,  and  I 
took  the  necessity  for  granted,  without  examination.  I 
accordingly  set  forward  the  next  morning;  very  tempestu- 
ous weather  soon  overtook  me;  I  had  not  traveled  three 
days  before  I  relapsed  into  my  fever,  and  died. 

I  was  now  as  cruelly  disappointed  by  Minos,  as  I  had 


WORLD  TO  THE  NEXT,  &c.  281 

formerly  been  happily  so.  I  advanced  with  the  utmost 
confidence  to  the  gate,  and  really  imagined  I  should  have 
been  admitted  by  the  wisdom  of  my  countenance,  even 
without  any  questions  asked:  but  this  was  not  my  case; 
and,  to  my  great  surprise,  Minos,  with  a  menacing  voice, 
called  out  to  me — You  Mr.  there,  with  the  grave  coun- 
tenance, whither  so  fast,  pray?  Will  you  please,  before 
you  move  any  farther  forwards,  to  give  me  a  short  account 
of  your  transactions  below  ?  I  then  began,  and  recounted 
to  him  my  whole  history,  still  expecting,  at  the  end  of 
every  period,  that  the  gate  would  be  ordered  to  fly  open ; 
but  I  was  obliged  to  go  quite  through  with  it,  and  then 
Minos,  after  some  little  consideration,  spoke  to  me  as  fol- 
lows : 

"  '  You,  Mr.  Wiseman ;  stand  forth  if  you  please.  Be- 
lieve me,  sir,  a  trip  back  again  to  earth  will  be  one  of  the 
wisest  steps  you  ever  took,  and  really  more  to  the  honour 
of  your  wisdom,  than  any  you  have  hitherto  taken.  On  the 
other  side,  nothing  could  be  simpler,  than  to  endeavour  at 
Elysium;  for  who,  but  a  fool,  would  carry  a  commodity, 
which  is  of  such  infinite  value  in  one  place,  into  another 
where  it  is  of  none.  But  without  attempting  to  offend 
your  gravity  with  a  jest,  you  must  return  to  the  place  from 
whence  you  came:  for  Elysium  was  never  designed  for 
those  who  are  too  wise  to  be  happy.' 

"  This  sentence  confounded  me  greatly,  especially  as  it 
seemed  to  threaten  me  with  carrying  my  wisdom  back 
again  to  earth.  I  told  the  judge,  though  he  would  not 
admit  me  at  the  gate,  I  hoped  I  had  committed  no  crime, 
while  alive,  which  merited  my  being  wise  any  longer.  He 
answered  me,  I  must  take  my  chance  as  to  that  matter; 
and  immediately  we  turned  our  backs  to  each  other." 


232  A   JOURNEY   FROM   THIS 

CHAPTER  XVII. 

Julian  enters  into  thex>erson  of  a  King. 

"  I  WAS  now  born  at  Ovicdo  in  Spain.  ]\Iy  father's  name 
was  Vercmond,  and  I  was  adopted  by  my  uncle,  king  Al- 
pbonso  the  Chaste.  I  don't  recollect,  in  all  the  pilgrimages 
I  have  made  on  earth,  that  I  ever  passed  a  more  miserable 
infancy  than  now ;  being  under  the  utmost  confinement 
and  restraint,  and  surrounded  with  physicians,  who  were 
ever  dosing  me ;  and  tutors,  who  were  continually  plaguing 
me  with  their  instructions;  even,  those  hours  of  leisure, 
which  my  inclination  would  have  spent  in  play,  were  al- 
lotted to  tedious  pomp  and  ceremony,  which,  at  an  age 
wherein  I  had  no  ambition  to  enjoy  the  servility  of  cour- 
tiers, enslaved  me  more  than  it  could  the  meanest  of  them. 
However,  as  I  advanced  towards  manhood,  my  condition 
made  me  some  amends;  for  the  most  beautiful  women  of 
their  o^\ti  accord  threw  out  lures  for  me,  and  I  had  the 
happiness,  which  no  man  in  an  inferior  degree  can  arrive 
at,  of  enjoying  the  most  delicious  creatures,  without  the 
previous  and  tiresome  ceremonies  of  courtship,  unless  with 
the  most  simple,  young,  and  unexperienced.  As  for  the 
court  ladies,  they  regarded  me  rather  as  men  do  the  most 
lovely  of  the  other  sex ;  and  though  they  outwardly  retained 
some  appearance  of  modesty,  they  in  reality  rather  con- 
sidered themselves  as  receiving  than  conferring  favors. 

"  Another  happiness  I  enjoyed,  was  in  conferring  favors 
of  another  sort ;  for  as  I  was  extremely  good-natured  and 
generous,  so  I  had  daily  opportunities  of  satisfying  those 
passions.  Besides  my  own  princely  allowance,  which  was 
very  bountiful,  and  with  which  I  did  many  liberal  and 
good  actions,  I  recommended  numberless  persons  of  merit 
in  distress  to  the  king's  notice,  most  of  whom  were  provided 
for. 


WORLD  TO  THE  NEXT,  &c.  283 

"  Indeed,  had  I  sufficiently  known  my  blest  situation  at 
this  time,  I  should  have  grieved  at  nothing  more  than  the 
death  of  Alphonso;  by  which  the  burden  of  government 
devolved  upon  me:  but  so  blindly  fond  is  ambition,  and 
such  charms  doth  it  fancy  in  the  power,  and  pomp,  and 
splendor  of  a  crowm,  that  though  I  vehemently  loved  that 
king,  and  had  the  greatest  obligations  to  him,  the  thoughts 
of  succeeding  him  obliterated  my  regret  at  his  loss,  and  the 
wish  for  my  approaching  coronation  dried  my  eyes  at  his 
funeral. 

"But  my  fondness  for  the  name  of  king,  did  not  make  me 
forgetful  of  those  over  whom  I  was  to  reign.  I  considered 
them  in  the  light  in  which  a  tender  father  regards  his  chil- 
dren, as  persons  whose  well-being  God  had  intrusted  to  my 
care ;  and  again,  in  that  in  w^hich  a  prudent  lord  respects 
his  tenants,  as  those  on  whose  wealth  and  grandeur  he  is  to 
build  his  own.  Both  these  considerations  inspired  me  with 
the  greatest  care  for  their  welfare,  and  their  good  was  my 
first  and  ultimate  concern. 

"  The  usurper  Mauregas  had  impiously  obliged  himself, 
and  his  successors,  to  pay  to  the  Moors  every  year  an  in- 
famous tribute  of  an  hundred  young  virgins:  from  tliis 
cruel  and  scandalous  imposition  I  resolved  to  relieve  my 
country.  Accordingly,  w^hen  their  emperor  Abderames  the 
Second  had  the  audaciousness  to  make  this  demand  of  me, 
instead  of  complying  wdth  it,  I  ordered  his  ambassadors  to 
be  driven  away  with  all  imaginable  ignominy,  and  would 
have  condemned  them  to  death,  could  I  have  done  it  with- 
out a  manifest  violation  of  the  law  of  nations. 

"  I  now  raised  an  immense  army.  At  the  levying  of 
which  I  made  a  speech  from  my  throne,  acquainting  my 
subjects  w^ith  the  necessity,  and  the  reasons  of  the  war  in 
which  I  was  going  to  engage:  which  I  convinced  them  I 
had  undertaken  for  their  ease  and  safety,  and  not  for  satis- 
fying any  wanton  ambition,  or  revenging  any  private 
pique  of  my  own.     They  all  declared  unanimously  that 


2S^  A   JOURNEY  FROM   THIS 

they  would  venture  their  lives,  and  everything  dear  to 
them,  in  my  defense,  and  in  the  support  of  the  honour  of 
my  crown.  Accordingly,  my  levies  were  instantly  com- 
plete, sufficient  numbers  being  only  left  to  till  the  land; 
churchmen,  even  bishops  themselves,  enlisting  themselves 
under  my  banners. 

"  The  armies  met  at  Alvelda,  where  we  were  discomfited 
with  immense  loss,  and  nothing  but  the  lucky  intervention 
of  the  night  could  have  saved  our  whole  army. 

"  I  retreated  to  the  summit  of  a  hill,  where  I  abandoned 
myself  to  the  highest  agonies  of  grief,  not  so  much  for  the 
danger  in  which  I  then  saw  my  crown,  as  for  the  loss  of 
those  miserable  wretches  wdio  had  exposed  their  lives  at 
my  command.  I  could  not  then  avoid  this  reflection; 
That  if  the  deaths  of  these  people  in  a  war,  undertaken 
absolutely  for  their  protection,  could  give  me  such  concern ; 
what  horror  must  I  have  felt,  if,  like  princes  greedy  of 
dominion,  I  had  sacrificed  such  numbers  to  my  own  pride, 
vanity,  and  ridiculous  lust  of  power. 

"After  having  vented  my  sorrows  for  some  time  in  this 
manner,  I  began  to  consider  by  what  means  I  might  pos- 
sibly endeavour  to  retrieve  this  misfortune ;  when  reflect- 
ing on  the  great  number  of  priests  I  had  in  my  army,  and 
on  the  prodigious  force  of  superstition,  a  thought  luckily 
suggested  itself  to  me,  to  counterfeit  that  St.  James  had 
appeared  to  me  in  a  vision,  and  had  promised  me  the  vic- 
tory. ^\^nle  I  was  ruminating  on  this,  the  bishop  of  Ka- 
jara  came  opportunely  to  me.  As  I  did  not  intend  to  com- 
municate the  secret  to  him,  I  took  another  method,  and, 
instead  of  answering  anything  the  bishop  said  to  me,  I 
pretended  to  talk  to  St.  James,  as  if  he  had  been  really 
present ;  till  at  length,  after  having  spoke  those  things 
which  1  thought  sufiicient,  and  thanked  the  Saint  aloud  for 
his  promise  of  the  victory,  I  turned  about  to  the  bishop, 
and  embracing  him  Avith  a  pleased  countenance,  protested 
I  did  not  know  he  was  present ;  and  then  informing  him 


WORLD  TO  TUB  NEXT,  &c.  285. 

of  this  supposed  vision,  I  asked  him,  if  he  had  not  himself 
seen  the  Saint  ?  He  answered  me,  he  had ;  and  afterwards 
proceeded  to  assure  me,  that  this  appearance  of  St.  James 
was  entirely  owing  to  his  prayers ;  for  that  he  was  his 
tutelar  saint.  He  added,  he  had  a  vision  of  him  a  few 
hours  before,  when  he  promised  him  a  victory  over  the 
infidels,  and  acquainted  him  at  the  same  time  of  the 
vacancy  of  the  see  of  Toledo.  IsTow  this  news  being  really 
true,  though  it  had  happened  so  lately,  that  I  had  not  heard 
of  it  (nor,  indeed,  was  it  well  possible  I  should,  considering 
the  great  distance  of  the  way),  when  I  was  afterwards  ac- 
quainted with  it,  a  little  staggered  me,  though  far  from 
being  superstitious;  till  being  informed,  that  the  bishop 
had  lost  three  horses  on  a  late  expedition,  I  was  satisfied. 

"  The  next  morning,  the  bishop,  at  my  desire,  mounted 
the  rostrum,  and  trumpeted  forth  this  vision  so  effectually, 
which  he  said  he  had  that  evening  twice  seen  with  his  own. 
eyes,  that  a  spirit  began  to  be  infused  through  the  whole 
army,  which  rendered  them  superior  to  almost  any  force: 
the  bishop  insisted,  that  the  least  doubt  of  success  was 
giving  the  lie  to  the  saint,  and  a  damnable  sin,  and  he  took 
upon  him  in  his  name  to  promise  them  victory. 

"  The  army  being  drawn  out,  I  soon  experienced  the  ef- 
fect of  enthusiasm,  for  having  contrived  another*  strata- 
gem to  strengthen  what  the  bishop  had  said,  the  soldiers 
fought  more  like  furies  than  men.  My  stratagem  was 
this;  I  had  about  me  a  dexterous  fellow,  who  had  been 
formerly  a  pimp  in  my  amours.  Him  I  dressed  up  in  a 
strange  antick  dress,  with  a  pair  of  white  colors  in  his 
right  hand,  a  red  cross  in  his  left,  and  having  disguised 
him  so,  that  no  one  could  know  him,  I  placed  him  on  a 
white  horse,  and  ordered  him  to  ride  to  the  head  of  the 
army,  and  cry  out,"  Follow  St.  James !  "  These  words 
were  reiterated  by  all  the  troops,  who  attacked  the  enemy 

*  This  silly  story  is  told  as  a  solemn  truth  (('.  e.  that  St.  James  really  appeared 
in  the  manner  this  fellow  is  described)  by  Mariana,  17.  §  ,  78. 


28G  A    JOURNEY  FROM  THIS 

^vitll  such  intrepidity,  that,  notwithstanding  our  inferi- 
iority  of  numbers,  we  soon  obtained  a  complete  victory. 

"  The  bishop  Avas  come  up  by  the  time  that  the  enemy 
was  routed,  aiid  ac([n!iiiiting  us,  that  ho  had  met  St.  James 
by  the  way,  and  that  he  had  informed  him  of  what  had 
passed,  he  added,  that  he  had  express  orders  from  the 
Saint,  to  receive  a  considerable  sum  for  his  use,  and  that  a 
certain  tax  on  corn  and  wine  should  be  settled  on  his  church 
forever;  and  lastly,  that  a  horseman's  pay  should  be  al- 
lowed for  the  future  to  the  Saint  himself,  of  which  he  and 
his  successors  were  appointed  receivers.  The  army 
received  these  demands  with  such  acclamations,  that  I  was 
obliged  to  comply  with  them,  as  I  could  by  no  means  dis- 
cover the  imposition,  nor  do  I  believe  I  should  have  gained 
any  credit  if  I  had. 

"I  had  now  done  with  the  Saint,  but  the  bishop  had  not ; 
for  about  a  week  afterwards,  lights  were  seen  in  a  wood 
near  where  the  battle  was  fought ;  and  in  a  short  time  after- 
wards, they  discovered  his  tomb  at  the  same  place.  Upon 
this,  the  bishop  made  me  a  visit,  and  forced  me  to  go 
thither,  to  build  a  church  to  him,  and  largely  endow  it.  In 
a  word,  the  good  man  so  plagued  me  with  miracle  after 
miracle,  that  I  was  forced  to  make  interest  with  the  pope 
to  convey  him  to  Toledo,  to  get  rid  of  him. 

"  But  to  proceed  to  other  matters. — There  was  an  infe- 
rior officer,  who  had  behaved  very  bravely  in  the  battle 
against  the  Moors,  and  had  received  several  wounds,  who 
had  solicited  me  for  preferment ;  which  I  was  about  to  con- 
fer on  him,  when  one  of  my  ministers  came  to  me  in  a 
fright,  and  told  me,  that  he  promised  the  post  I  designed 
for  this  man  to  the  son  of  count  Alderedo ;  and  that  the 
count,  who  was  a  powerful  person,  would  be  greatly  dis- 
obliged at  the  refusal,  as  he  had  sent  for  his  son  from 
school  to  take  possession  of  it.  I  was  obliged  to  agree  with 
my  minister's  reasons,  and  at  the  same  time  recommended 
the  wounded  soldier  to  be  i^referred  by  him,  which  he 


WORLD  TO  THE  NEXT,  &c.       •       287 

faithfully  promised  he  would;  but  I  met  the  poor  wretch 
since  in  Elysium,  who  informed  me  he  was  afterwards 
starved  to  death. 

"  jSTone,  who  hath  not  been  himself  a  prince,  nor  any 
prince,  till  his  death,  can  conceive  the  impositions  daily  put 
on  them  by  their  favourites  and  ministers ;  so  that  princes 
are  often  blamed  for  the  faults  of  others.  The  count  of 
Saldagne  had  been  long  confined  in  prison,  when  his  son 
D.  Bernard  del  Carpio,  who  had  performed  the  greatest 
actions  against  the  Moors,  entreated  me,  as  a  reward  for 
his  service,  to  grant  him  his  father's  liberty.  The  old 
man's  punishment  had  been  so  tedious,  and  the  services 
of  the  young  one  so  singularly  eminent,  that  I  was  very  in- 
clinable to  grant  the  request;  but  my  ministers  strongly 
opposed  it.  They  told  me,  My  glory  demanded  revenge 
for  the  dishonour  offered  to  my  family;  that  so  positive 
a  demand  carried  with  it  rather  the  air  of  tnenace  than  en- 
treaty. That  the  vain  detail  of  his  services,  and  the  recom- 
pense due  to  them,  was  an  injurious  reproach.  That 
to  grant  what  had  been  so  haughtily  demanded, would  argue 
in  the  monarch  both  weahiess  and  timidity;  in  a  word, 
that  to  remit  the  punishmeiit  inflicted  by  my  predecessors, 
would  be  to  condemn  their  judgment.  Lastly,  one  told  me 
in  a  ivhisper,  his  ivhole  family  are  enemies  to  your  house. 
By  these  means  the  ministers  prevailed.  The  young  lord 
took  the  refusal  so  ill,  that  he  retired  from  court  and  aban- 
doned himself  to  despair,  whilst  the  old  one  languished  in 
prison.  By  which  means,  as  I  have  since  discovered,  I 
lost  the  use  of  two  of  my  best  subjects. 

"  To  confess  the  truth,  I  had,  by  means  of  my  ministers, 
conceived  a  very  unjust  opinion  of  my  whole  people, 
whom  I  fancied  to  be  daily  conspiring  against  me,  and  to 
entertain  the  most  disloyal  thoughts;  when  in  reality  (as 
I  have  known  since  my  death)  they  held  me  in  universal 
respect  and  esteem.  This  is  a  trick,  I  believe,  too  often 
played  with  sovereigns,  who,  by  such  means,  are  prevented 
from  that  open  intercourse  with  their  subjects,  which  as 


288  A   JOURNEY  FliOM   THIS 

it  would  greatly  ciukiir  the  person  of  the  prince  to  the 
j)eople,  so  might  it  often  prove  dangerous  to  a  minister, 
who  was  consulting  his  own  interest  only  at  the  expense 
of  both.  I  believe  I  have  now  recounted  to  you  the  most 
material  passages  of  my  life ;  for,  I  assure  you,  there  are 
some  incidents  in  the  lives  of  kings  not  extremely  worth 
relating.  Everything  which  passes  in  their  minds  and 
families,  is  not  attended  with  the  splendour  which  sur- 
rounds their  throne:  indeed,  there  are  some  hours  wherein 
the  naked  king  and  the  naked  cobbler  can  scarce  be  distin- 
guished from  each  other. 

"  Had  it  not  been,  however,  for  my  ingratitude  to  Ber- 
nard del  Carpio,  I  believe  this  would  have  been  my  last  pil- 
grimage on  earth :  for,  as  to  the  story  of  St.  James,  I 
thought  Minos  would  have  burst  his  sides  at  it ;  but  he  was 
so  displeased  with  me  on  the  other  account,  that,  with  a 
frown,  he  cried  out,  '  Get  thee  back  again,  king.'  Nor 
would  be  suffer  me  to  say  another  word." 


CIIxiPTER   XVIII. 

Julian  passes  into  a  Fool. 

"  The  next  visit  I  made  to  the  world,  was  performed  in 
France,  where  I  was  born  in  the  court  of  Lewis  III.  and 
had  afterwards  the  honour  to  be  preferred  to  be  fool  to  the 
prince,  who  w^as  surnamcd  Charles  the  Simple.  But  in 
reality,  I  know  not  whether  I  might  so  properly  be  said 
to  have  acted  the  fool  in  his  court,  as  to  have  made  fools 
of  all  others  in  it.  Certain  it  is,  I  was  very  far  from 
being  what  is  generally  understood  by  that  word, 
being  a  most  cunning,  designing,  arch  knave.  I  knew 
very  well  the  folly  of  my  master,  and  of  many  others,  and 
how  to  make  my  advantage  of  this  knowledge.  I  was  as 
dear  to  Charles  the  Simple,  as  the  player  Paris  was  to 
Domitian,     and,     like    him,     bestowed     all    manner    of 


WORLD  TO  TEE  NEXT,  &c.  289 

offices  and  honours  on  whom  I  pleased.  This  drew  me  a 
great  number  of  followers  among  the  courtiers,  who  really 
mistook  me  for  a  fool,  and  yet  flattered  my  understanding. 
There  was  particularly  in  the  court,  a  fellow  who  had 
neither  honour,  honesty,  sense,  wit,  courage,  beauty,  nor 
indeed  any  one  good  quality,  either  of  mind  or  body,  to  rec- 
ommend him ;  but  was  at  the  same  time,  perhaps,  as  cun- 
ning a  monster  as  ever  lived.  This  gentleman  took  it  into 
his  head  to  list  under  my  banner,  and  pursued  me  so  very 
assiduously  with  flattery,  constantly  reminding  me  of  my 
good  sense,  that  I  grew  immoderately  fond  of  him ;  for 
though  flattery  is  not  most  judiciously  applied  to  qualities 
which  the  persons  flattered  possess,  yet  as,  notwithstanding 
my  being  well  assured  of  my  own  parts,  I  passed  in  the 
whole  court  for  a  fool,  this  flattery  was  a  very  sweet  morsel 
to  me.  I  therefore  got  this  fellow  preferred  to  a  bishop- 
ric, but  I  lost  my  flatterer  by  it :  for  he  never  afterwards 
said  a  civil  thing  to  me. 

"  I  never  baulked  my  imagination  for  the  grossness  of 
the  reflection  on  the  character  of  the  greatest  noble,  nay, 
even  the  king  himself ;  of  which  I  will  give  you  a  very  bold 
instance.  One  day,  his  simple  majesty  told  me,  he  believed 
I  had  so  much  power  that  his  people  looked  on  me  as  the 
king,  and  himself  as  my  fool.  At  this  I  pretended  to  be 
angry  as  with  an  affront.  ^  ^^ly,  how  now  ? '  says  the  king : 
'Are  you  ashamed  of  being  a  king  ? '  '  ISTo,  sir,'  says  I, 
'  but  I  am  devilishly  ashamed  of  my  fool.' 

"  Hebert,  earl  of  Vermandois,  had  by  my  means  been 
restored  to  the  favour  of  the  Simple  (for  so  I  used  always 
to  call  Charles).  He  afterwards  prevailed  with  the  king  to 
take  the  city  of  Arras  from  earl  Baldwin,  by  which  means 
Hebert,  in  exchange  for  this  city,  had  Peronne  restored  to 
him  at  court  during  his  solicitation,  I  told  him  he  did  not 
to  procure  the  restoration  of  his  city;  but  either  through 
pride  or  ignorance,  neglected  to  apply  to  me.  As  I  met 
him  at  court  during  his  solicitation,  I  told  him,  he  did  not 
19 


290  A   JOURNEY  FROM   THIS 

apply  the  right  way;  he  answered  roughly,  he  should  not 
ask  a  fool's  advice.  I  replied,  I  did  not  wonder  at  hia 
prejudice;  since  he  had  miscarried  already  hy  followiug 
a  fool's  advice :  but  I  told  him,  there  were  fools  who  had 
more  interest  than  he  had  brought  with  him  to  court.  IIo 
answered  me  surlily,  he  had  no  fool  with  him,  for  that  ho 
traveled  alone. — 'Ay,  my  lord,'  says  I,  '  I  often  travel 
alone,  and  yet  they  will  have  it  I  always  carry  a  fool  with 
me.'  This  raised  a  laugh  among  the  bystanders,  on 
which  he  gave  me  a  blow.  I  immediately  complained  of 
this  usage  to  the  Simple,  who  dismissed  the  earl  from 
court  with  verv^  hard  words,  instead  of  granting  him  the 
favor  he  solicited. 

I  give  you  these  rather  as  a  specimen  of  my  interest 
and  impudence  than  of  my  wit;  indeed  my  jests  were 
commonly  more  admired  than  they  ought  to  be ;  for,  per- 
haps, I  w^as  not  in  reality  much  more  a  wit  than  a  fool. 
But,  with  the  latitude  of  unbounded  scurrility,  it  is  easy 
enough  to  attain  the  character  of  wit,  especially  in  a  court, 
where,  as  all  persons  hate  and  envy  one  another  heartily, 
and  are  at  the  same  time  obliged  by  the  constrained  be- 
haviour of  civility  to  profess  the  greatest  liking,  so  it  is, 
and  must  be  wonderfully  pleasant  to  them  to  see  the  follies 
of  their  acquaintance  exposed  by  a  third  person.  Besides, 
the  opinion  of  the  court  is  as  uniform  as  the  fashion,  and  is 
always  guided  by  the  will  of  the  prince  or  of  the  favorite. 
I  doubt  not  that  Caligula's  horse  was  universally  held  in 
his  court  to  be  a  good  and  able  consul.  In  the  same  manner 
was  I  universally  acknowledged  to  be  the  wittiest  fool  in 
the  world.  Every  word  I  said  raised  laughter,  and  was 
held  to  be  a  jest,  especially  by  the  ladies;  who  sometimes 
laughed  before  I  had  discovered  my  sentiment,  and  often 
repeated  that  as  a  jest  which  I  did  not  even  intend  as 
one. 

"  I  was  as  severe  on  the  ladies  as  on  the  men  and  with 
the  same  impunity :  but  this  at  last  cost  me  dear ;  for  once 


WORLD  TO  THE  NEXT,  &c.  291 

having  joked  the  beauty  of  a  lady,  whose  name  was  Ade- 
laide, a  favorite  of  the  Simple's;  she  pretended  to  smile 
and  be  pleased  at  my  wit  with  the  rest  of  the  company; 
but  in  reality  she  highly  resented  it,  and  endeavoured  to 
undermine  me  with  the  king.  In  which  she  so  greatly 
succeeded  (for  what  cannot  a  favourite  woman  do  with  one 
who  deserves  the  surname  of  Simple  ?)  that  the  king 
grew  every  day  more  reserved  to  me,  and  when  I  attemj)ted 
any  freedom,  gave  me  such  marks  of  his  displeasure,  that 
the  courtiers  (who  have  all  hawk's  eyes  at  a  slight  from 
the  sovereign)  soon  discerned  it:  and  indeed,  had  I  been 
blind  enough  not  to  have  discovered  that  I  had  lost  ground 
in  the  Simple's  favour,  by  his  own  change  in  his  carriage 
towards  me,  I  must  have  found  it,  nay  even  felt  it,  in  the 
behaviour  of  the  courtiers:  for,  as  my  company  was  two 
days  before  solicited  with  the  utmost  eageraess,  it  was 
now  rejected  with  as  much  scorn.  I  was  now  the  jest 
of  the  ushers  and  pages ;  and  an  officer  of  the  guards,  on 
whom  I  was  a  little  jocose,  gave  me  a  box  on  the  ear,  bid- 
ding me  make  free  with  my  equals.  This  very  fellow 
had  been  my  butt  for  many  years,  without  daring  to  lift  his 
hand  against  me. 

"But  though  I  visibly  perceived  the  alteration  in:  the  Sim- 
ple, I  was  utterly  unable  to  make  any  guess  at  the  occasion. 
I  had  not  the  least  suspicion  of  Adelaide :  for,  besides  her 
being  a  very  good-humoured  woman,  I  had  often  made 
severe  jests  on  her  reputation,  which  I  had  all  the  reason 
imaginable  to  believe  had  given  her  no  offense.  But  I 
soon  perceived,  that  a  woman  will  bear  the  most  bitter 
censures  on  her  morals,  easier  than  the  smallest  reflection 
on  her  beauty ;  for  she  now  declared  publicly,  that  I  ought 
to  be  dismissed  from  court,  as  the  stupidest  of  fools,  and 
one  in  whom  there  was  no  diversion;  and  that  she  won- 
dered how  any  person  could  have  so  little  taste,  as  to  im- 
agine I  had  any  wit.  This  speech  was  echoed  through  the 
drawing-room,  and  agreed  to  by  all  present.     Every  one 


292  A   JOURNEY  FROM   THIS 

now  put  on  an  uiuiaiial  gravity  on  their  countenance  when- 
ever I  spoke ;  and  it  was  as  much  out  of  my  power  to  raise 
a  laugh,  as  formerly  it  had  been  for  me  to  open  my  mouth 
without  one. 

"  While  my  affairs  were  in  this  posture,  I  went  one  day 
into  the  circle,  witJiout  my  fool's  dress.  The  Simple,  who 
would  still  speak  to  me,  cried  out,  '  So  fool,  what's  the 
matter  now  ? '  '  Sir,'  answered  I,  '  fools  are  like  to  be  so 
common  a  commodity  at  court,  that  I  am  weary  of  my 
coat.'  '  IIow  dost  thou  mean,'  answered  the  Simple ; 
'  what  can  make  them  commoner  now  than  usual  ? ' — 
'  Oh,  sir,'  said  I,  '  there  are  ladies  here  make  your  ma- 
jesty a  fool  every  day  of  their  lives.'  '  The  Simple  took  no 
notice  of  my  jest,  and  several  present  said  my  bones  ought 
to  be  broke  for  my  impudence ;  but  it  pleased  the  queen, 
who  knowing  Adelaide,  whom  she  hated,  to  be  the  cause 
of  my  disgrace,  obtained  me  of  the  king,  and  took  me  into 
her  service;  so  that  I  was  henceforth  called  the  queen's 
fool,  an  din  her  court  received  the  same  honour,  and  had  as 
much  wit  as  I  had  formerly  had  in  the  king's.  But  as 
the  queen  had  really  no  power  unless  over  her  o\\ti  domes- 
tics, I  was  not  treated  in  general  with  that  complacence, 
nor  did  I  receive  those  bribes  and  presents,  which  had  once 
fallen  to  my  share. 

"  I^or  did  this  confined  respect  continue  long ;  for  the 
queen,  who  had  in  fact  no  taste  for  humour,  soon  grew 
sick  of  my  foolery,  and  forgetting  the  cause  for  which  she 
had  taken  me,  neglected  me  so  much,  that  her  court  grew 
intolerable  to  my  temper,  and  I  broke  my  heart  and  died. 

"  Minos  laughed  heartily  at  several  things  in  my  story, 
and  then  telling  me,  Xo  one  played  the  fool  in  Elysium, 
bid  me  go  back  again." 


.WORLD  TO  THE  NEXT,  &c.  293 

CHAPTER  XIX. 
Julian  appears  in  the  character  of  a  Beggar. 

"  I  NOW  returned  to  Rome,  and  was  born  into  a  very 
poor  and  numerous  family,  which,  to  be  honest  with  you, 
procured  its  livelihood  by  begging.  This,  if  you  were  never 
yourself  of  the  calling,  you  do  not  know,  I  suppose,  to  bo 
as  regular  a  trade  as  any  other;  to  have  its  several  rules 
and  secrets,  or  mysteries,  which  to  learn  require  perhaps 
as  tedious  an  apprenticeship  as  those  of  any  craft  what- 
ever. 

"  The  first  thing  we  are  taught  is  the  countenance  miser- 
able. This  indeed  nature  makes  much  easier  to  some  than 
others;  but  there  are  none  who  cannot  accomplish  it,  if 
they  begin  early  enough  in  youth,  and  before  the  muscles 
are  grown  too  stubborn. 

"  The  second  thing  is,  the  voice  lamentable.  In  this 
qualification  too,  nature  must  have  her  share  in  producing 
the  most  consummate  excellence:  however,  art  will  here, 
as  in  every  other  instance,  go  a  great  way  with  industry 
and  application,  even  without  the  assistance  of  genius ;  es- 
pecially if  the  student  begins  young. 

"  There  are  many  other  instructions ;  but  these  are  the 
most  considerable.  The  women  are  taught  one  practice 
more  than  the  men,  for  they  are  instructed  in  the  art  of 
crying,  that  is,  to  have  their  tears  ready  on  all  occasions : 
but  this  is  attained  very  easily  by  most.  Some  indeed 
arrive  at  the  utmost  perfection  in  this  art  with  incredible 
facility. 

"  !No  profession  requires  a  deeper  insight  into  human 
nature  than  the  beggar's.  Their  knowledge  of  the  pas- 
sions of  men  is  so  extensive,  that  I  have  often  thought,  it 
would  be  of  no  little  service  to  a  politician  to  have  his  ed- 
ucation among  them,     ^ay,  there  is  much  greater  analogy; 


294  A   JOl'UXEY   FROM    THIS 

between  these  two  characters  than  is  imagined;  for  both 
concur  in  their  first  and  grand  principle,  it  being  equally 
their  business  to  delude  and  impose  on  mankind.  It  must 
be  confessed,  that  they  differ  widely  in  the  degree  of  ad- 
vantage, which  they  make  by  their  deceit ;  for,  whereas  the 
beggar  is  contented  with  a  little,  the  politician  leaves  but 
a  little  behind. 

"  A  very  great  English  philosopher  hath  remarked  our 
policy,  in  taking  care  never  to  address  any  one  with  a 
title  inferior  to  what  he  really  claims.  My  father  was  of 
the  same  opinion :  for  I  remember  when  I  was  a  boy,  the 
pope  happening  to  pass  by,  I  attended  him  with  '  Pray, 
sir,  for  God's  sake,  sir;  for  the  Lord's  sake,  sir;' — To 
which  he  answered  gravely,  '  Sirrah,  sirrah,  you  ought 
to  be  whipped  for  taking  the  Lord's  name  in  vain ;  '  and 
in  vain  it  was  indeed,  for  he  gave  me  nothing.  My  father 
overhearing  this,  took  his  advice,  and  whipped  me  severely. 
Wliile  I  was  under  correction,  I  promised  often  never  to 
take  the  Lord's  name  in  vain  any  more.  My  father  then 
said,  '  Child,  I  do  not  whip  you  for  taking  his  name  in. 
vain :  I  whip  you  for  not  calling  the  pope  his  holiness.' 

"  If  all  men  were  so  wise  and  good  to  follow  the  clergy's 
example,  the  nuisance  of  beggars  w^ould  soon  be  removed. 
I  do  not  remember  to  have  been  above  twice  relieved  by 
them  during  my  whole  state  of  beggary.  Once  was  by  a 
very  well-looking  man,  who  gave  me  a  small  piece  of 
silver,  and  declared,  he  had  given  me  more  than  he  had 
left  himself;  the  other  was  by  a  spruce  young  fellow,  who 
had  that  very  day  first  put  on  his  robes,  whom  I  attended 
wdth  '  Pray,  reverend  sir,  good  reverend  sir,  consider 
your  cloth.'  lie  answered,  '  I  do,  child,  consider  my 
ofiice,  and  I  hope  all  our  cloth  do  the  same.'  lie  then 
threw  down  some  money,  and  strutted  off  with  great 
dignity. 

"  With  the  women  I  had  one  general  formulary:  '  Sweet, 


WORLD  TO  THE  NEXT,  &c.  295 

pretty  lady,  God  bless  your  ladyship,  God  bless  your  hand- 
some face.'  This  generally  succeeded;  but  I  observed, 
the  uglier  the  woman  was,  the  surer  I  was  of  success. 

"  It  was  a  constant  maxim  among  us,  that  the  greater 
retinue  any  one  traveled  with,  the  less  expectation  we  might 
promise  ourselves  from  them;  but  whenever  we  saw  a 
vehicle  with  a  single,  or  no  servant,  we  imagined  our 
booty  sure,  and  were  seldom  deceived. 

"  We  observed  great  difference  introduced  by  time  and 
circumstance  in  the  same  person;  for  instance,  a  losing 
gamester  is  sometimes  generous :  but  from  a  winner  you 
will  as  easily  obtain  his  soul  as  a  single  groat.  A  lawyer 
traveling  from  his  country  seat  to  his  clients  at  Rome, 
and  a  physician  going  to  visit  a  patient,  were  always 
worth  asking;  but  the  same  on  their  return  were  (accord- 
ing to  our  cant  phrase)  untouchable. 

"  The  most  general,  and  indeed,  the  truest  maxim  among 
ITS,  was,  that  those  who  possessed  the  least  were  always 
the  readiest  to  give.  The  chief  art  of  a  beggar-man  is 
therefore  to  discern  the  rich  from  the  poor,  which,  though 
it  be  only  distinguishing  substance  from  shadow,  is  by  no 
means  attainable  without  a  pretty  good  capacity,  and  a  vast 
degree  of  attention :  for  these  two  are  eternally  industrious 
in  endeavouring  to  counterfeit  each  other.  In  this  deceit, 
the  poor  man  is  more  heartily  in  earnest  to  deceive  you 
than  the  rich;  who,  amidst  all  the  emblems  of  poverty 
which  he  puts  on,  still  permits  some  mark  of  his  wealth  to 
strike  the  eye.  Thus,  while  his  apparel  is  not  worth  a 
groat,  his  finger  wears  a  ring  of  value,  or  his  pocket  a  gold 
watch.  In  a  word,  he  seems  rather  to  affect  poverty  to 
insult,  than  impose  on  you.  Kow  the  poor  man,  on  the 
contrary,  is  very  sincere  in  his  desire  of  passing  for  rich ; 
but  the  eagerness  of  this  desire  hurries  him  to  overact  his 
part,  and  he  betrays  himself,  as  one  who  is  drunk  by  his 
overacted  sobriety.  Thus,  instead  of  being  attended  by  one 
servant  well  mounted,  he  will  have  two ;  and  not  being  able 


296  A  JOURNEY  FROM   THIS 

to  purchase  or  maintain  a  second  horse  of  value,  one  of  his 
servants  at  least  is  mounted  on  a  hired  rascallion.  lie 
is  not  contented  to  go  plain  and  neat  in  his  clothes;  ho 
therefore  claps  on  some  tawdry  ornament,  and  what  he 
adds  to  the  fineness  of  his  vestment,  he  detracts  from  the 
fineness  of  his  linen.  Without  descending  into  more 
minute  particulars,  I  believe  I  may  assert  it  as  an  axiom  of 
indubitable  truth,  that  whoever  shows  you  he  is,  either 
in  himself,  or  his  equipage,  as  gaudy  as  he  can,  convinces 
you  he  is  more  so  than  he  can  afford.  Now,  whenever  a 
man's  expense  exceeds  his  income,  he  is  indifferent  in  the 
degree;  we  had  therefore  nothing  more  to  do  with  such, 
than  to  flatter  hem  with  their  wealth  and  splendor,  and 
were  always  certain  of  success. 

"There  is,  indeed,  one  kind  of  rich  man,  who  is  common- 
ly more  liberal,  namely,  where  riches  surprise  him,  as  it 
were,  in  the  midst  of  poverty  and  distress,  the  consequence 
of  which  is,  I  own,  sometimes  excessive  avarice ;  but  of tener 
extreme  prodigality.  I  remember  one  of  these,  who, 
having  received  a  pretty  large  sum  of  money,  gave  me, 
when  I  begged  an  obolus,  a  whole  talent;  on  which  his 
friend  having  reproved  him,  he  answered  with  an  oath, 
'  Whj  not  ?    Have  I  not  fifty  left  ? ' 

"  The  life  of  a  beggar,  if  men  estimated  things  by  their 
real  essence,  and  not  by  their  outward  false  appearance, 
would  be,  perhaps,  a  more  desirable  situation  than  any  of 
those,  which  ambition  persuades  us  with  such  difficulty, 
danger,  and  often  villainy  to  aspire  to.  The  wants  of  a 
beggar  are  commonly  as  chimerical  as  the  abundance  of  a 
nobleman ;  for  besides  vanity,  which  a  judicious  beggar 
will  always  apply  to  with  wonderful  efficacy,  there  are  in 
reality  very  few  natures  so  hardened,  as  not  to  compassion- 
ate poverty  and  distress,  when  the  predominancy  of  some 
other  passion  doth  not  prevent  them. 

"  There  is  one  happiness  which  attends  money  got  with 
aese,  namely,  that  it  is  never  hoarded;  otherwise,  as  we 


WORLD  TO  THE  NEXT,  &c.  297 

have  frequent  opportunities  of  growing  rich,  that  canker 
care  might  prey  upon  our  quiet,  as  it  doth  on  others :  but 
our  money  stock  we  spend  as  fast  as  we  acquire  it ;  usually 
at  least,  for  I  speak  not  without  exception ;  thus  it  gives  us 
mirth  only,  and  no  trouble.  Indeed,  the  luxury  of  our 
lives  might  introduce  diseases,  did  not  our  daily  exercise 
prevent  them.  This  gives  us  an  appetite  and  relish  for 
our  dainties,  and  at  the  same  time  an  antidote  against  the 
evil  effects,  which  sloth,  united  with  luxury,  induces  on 
the  habit  of  a  human  body.  Our  women  we  enjoy  with 
ecstasies,  at  least  equal  to  what  the  greatest  men  feel  in 
their  embraces.  I  can,  I  am  assured,  say  of  myself,  that  no 
mortal  could  reap  more  perfect  happiness  from  the 
tender  passion,  than  my  fortune  had  decreed  me.  I 
married  a  charming  young  woman  for  love;  she  was  the 
daughter  of  a  neighboring  beggar,  who,  with  an  improvi- 
dence too  often  seen,  spent  a  very  large  income  which  he 
procured  by  his  profession,  so  that  he  was  able  to  give  her 
no  fortune  down ;  however,  at  his  death,  he  left  her  a  very 
well-accustomed  begging-hut,  situated  on  the  side  of  a 
steep  hill,  where  travelers  could  not  immediately  escape 
from  us,  and  a  garden  adjoining,  being  the  twenty-eighth 
part  of  an  acre,  well  planted.  She  made  the  best  of 
wives,  bore  me  nineteen  children,  and  never  failed,  unless 
on  her  lying-in,  which  generally  lasted  three  days,  to  get  my 
supper  ready,  against  my  return  home  in  an  evening;  this 
being  my  favourite  meal,  and  at  which  I,  as  well  as  my 
whole  family,  greatly  enjoyed  ourselves ;  the  j)rincipal 
subject  of  our  discourse,  being  generally  the  boons  we  had 
that  day  obtained,  on  which  occasions  laughing  at  the 
folly  of  the  donors  made  no  inconsiderable  part  of  the 
entertainment;  for,  whatever  might  be  their  motive  for 
giving,  we  constantly  imputed  our  success  to  our  having 
flattered  their  vanity,  or  overreached  their  understanding. 
"  But  perhaps  I  have  dwelt  too  long  on  this  character ;  I 
shall  conclude  therefore  with  telling  you,  that  after  a  life 


29S  A   JOURNEY   FROM   THIS 

of  102  years'  contiiiuanec,  during  all  which  I  had  uever 
known  any  sickness  or  infirmity,  but  that  which  old  age 
necessarily  induced,  I  at  last,  without  the  least  pain,  went 
out  like  the  suulf  of  a  candle. 

"  Minos,  having  heard  my  history  bid  me  compute,  if  I 
could,  how  many  lies  I  had  told  in  my  life.  As  we  are 
here,  by  a  certain  fated  necessity,  obliged  to  confine  our- 
selves to  the  truth,  I  answered,  I  believed  about  50,000,- 
000,  He  then  replied  with  a  frown,  Can  such  a  wretch 
conceive  any  hopes  of  entering  Elysium  ?  I  immediately 
turned  about,  and,  upon  the  whole,  was  rejoiced  at  his  not 
calling  me  back." 


CHAPTER  XX. 

Julian  performs  the  part  of  a  Statesman. 

"  It  was  now  my  fortune  to  be  born  of  a  German  Prin- 
cess ;  but  a  man-midwife,  pulling  my  head  off,  in  deliver- 
ing my  mother,  put  a  speedy  end  to  my  princely  life. 

"  Spirits,  who  end  their  lives  before  they  are  at  the  age 
of  five  years  are  immediately  ordered  into  other  bodies ; 
and  it  was  now  my  fortune  to  perform  several  infancies, 
before  I  could  again  entitle  myself  to  an  examination  of 
Minos. 

"  At  length  I  was  destined  once  more  to  play  a  considera- 
ble part  on  the  stage.  I  was  born  in  England,  in  the  reign 
of  Etheldred  II.  My  father's  name  was  Ulnoth.  He  was 
earl  or  thane  of  Sussex:  I  was  afterwards  known  by  the 
name  of  earl  Godwin,  and  began  to  make  a  considerable 
figure  in  the  world,  in  the  time  of  Harold  Harefoot,  whom 
I  procured  to  be  made  king  of  Wessex,  or  the  West  Saxons, 
in  prejudice  of  Hardicanute,  whose  mother  Emma  en- 
deavoured afterwards  to  set  another  of  her  sons  on  the 
throne:  but  I  circumvented  her,  and  communicating  her 
design  to  the  king,  at  the  same  time  acquainted  him  with 


WORLD  TO  TEE  NEXT,  &c.  299 

a  project  which  I  had  formed  for  the  murder  of  these  two 
young  princes.  Emma  had  sent  for  these  her  sons  from 
Normandy,  with  the  king's  leave,  whom  she  had  deceived 
by  her  religious  behaviour,  and  pretended  neglect  of  all 
worldly  affairs ;  but  I  prevailed  with  Harold  to  invite  these 
princes  to  his  court,  and  put  them  to  death.  The  prudent 
mother  sent  only  Alfred,  retaining  Edward  to  herself,  as 
she  suspected  my  ill  designs,  and  thought  I  should  not  ven- 
ture to  execute  them  on  one  of  her  sons,  while  she  secured 
the  other ;  but  she  was  deceived,  for  I  had  no  sooner  Alfred 
in  my  possession,  than  I  caused  him  to  be  conducted  to  Ely, 
where  I  ordered  his  eyes  to  be  put  out,  and  afterwards  to 
be  confined  in  a  monastery. 

"  This  was  one  of  those  cruel  expedients,  which  great 
men  satisfy  themselves  well  in  executing,  by  concluding 
them  to  be  necessary  to  the  service  of  their  prince,  who  is 
the  support  of  their  ambition. 

"  Edward,  the  other  son  of  Emma,  escaped  again  to  ISTor- 
mandy;  whence,  after  the  death  of  Harold  and  Hardi- 
canute,  he  made  no  scruple  of  applying  to  my  protection 
and  favour,  though  he  had  before  prosecuted  me  with  all 
the  vengeance  he  was  able,  for  the  murder  of  his  brother : 
but  in  all  great  affairs,  private  relation  must  yield  to  pub- 
lic interest.  Having  therefore  concluded  very  advantage- 
ous terms  for  myself  with  him,  I  made  no  scruple  of  pat- 
ronizing his  cause,  and  soon  placed  him  on  the  throne.  IsTor 
did  I  conceive  the  least  apprehension  from  his  resentment, 
as  I  knew^  my  power  was  too  great  for  him  to  encounter. 

"  Among  other  stipulated  conditions,  one  was  to  marry 
my  daughter  Editha.  This  Edward  consented  to  with 
great  reluctance,  and  I  had  afterwards  no  reason  to  be 
pleased  with  it ;  for  it  raised  her,  who  had  been  my  favorite 
child,  to  such  an  opinion  of  greatness,  that,  instead  of  pay- 
ing me  the  usual  respect,  she  frequently  threw  in  my  teeth 
(as  often  at  least  as  I  gave  her  any  admonition),  that  she 
was  now  a  queen,  and  that  the  character  and  title  of  father 


300  A   JOURNEY   FROM   THIS 

merged  iii  that  of  subject.  This  behaviour,  however,  did 
not  cure  me  of  my  affection  towards  her,  nor  lessen  the 
uneasiness  whicli  I  afterwards  bore  on  Edward's  dismiss- 
ing her  from  his  bed. 

"  One  thing,  whieli  principally  induced  me  to  labour  the 
promotion  of  Edward,  was  the  simplicity  or  weakness  of 
that  prince,  under  whom  I  promised  myself  absolute  domi- 
nion, under  another  name.  Xor  did  this  opinion  deceive 
me:  for  during  liis  whole  reign,  my  administration  was  in 
the  highest  dcgi-ee  despotic;  I  had  everything  of  royalty 
but  the  outward  ensigns:  No  man  ever  applying  for  a 
place,  or  any  kind  of  preferment,  but  to  me  only.  A  cir- 
cumstance, which  as  it  greatly  enriched  my  coffers,  so  it 
no  less  pampered  my  ambition,  and  satisfied  my  vanity 
with  a  numerous  attendance;  and  I  had  the  pleasure  of 
seeing  those,  who  only  bowed  to  the  king,  prostrating 
themselves  before  me. 

"  Edward  the  Confessor,  or  St.  Edward,  as  some  have 
called  him  in  derision,  I  suppose  being  a  very  silly  fellow, 
had  all  the  faults  incident,  and  almost  inseparable  to  fools. 
He  married  my  daughter  Editha,  from  his  fear  of  dis- 
obliging me ;  and  afterwards,  out  of  hatred  to  me,  refused 
even  to  consummate  his  marriage,  though  she  was  one  of 
the  most  beautiful  women  of  her  age.  He  was  likewise 
guilty  of  the  basest  ingratitude  to  his  mother  (a  vice  to 
which  fools  are  chiefly,  if  not  only  liable),  and  in  return 
for  her  endeavours  to  procure  him  a  throne  in  his  youth, 
confined  her  in  a  loathsome  prison  in  her  old  age.  This, 
it  is  true,  he  did  by  my  advice :  but  as  to  her  walking  over 
nine  ploughshares  red-hot,  and  giving  nine  manors,  when 
she  had  not  one  in  her  possession,  there  is  not  a  syllable 
of  veracity  in  it. 

"The  first  great  perplexity  I  fell  into,  was  on  the  account 
of  my  son  Swane,  who  had  deflowered  the  abbess  of  Leon, 
since  called  Leominster  in  Herefordshire.  After  this  fact, 
he  retired  into  Denmark,  whence  he  sent  to  me  to  obtain 


WORLD  TO  THE  NEXT,  &c.  301 

liis  pardon.  The  king  at  first  refused  it;  being  moved 
thereto,  as  I  afterwards  found,  by  some  churchmen,  parti- 
cularly by  one  of  his  chaplains,  whom  I  had  prevented 
from  obtaining  a  bishopric.  Upon  this,  my  son  Swane 
invaded  the  coasts  with  several  ships  and  committed  many 
outrageous  cruelties;  which,  indeed,  did  his  business,  as 
they  served  me  to  apply  to  the  fear  of  this  king,  which  I 
had  long  since  discovered  to  be  his  predominant  passion. 
And,  at  last,  he,  who  had  refused  pardon  to  his  first  of- 
fense, submitted  to  give  it  him  after  he  had  committed 
many  other  more  monstrous  crimes ;  by  which  his  pardon 
lost  all  grace  to  the  offended,  and  received  double  censure 
from  all  others. 

"  The  king  was  greatly  inclined  to  the  ISTormans,  had 
created  a  Norman  archbishop  of  Canterbury,  and  had 
heaped  extraordinary  favours  on  him.  I  had  no  other  objec- 
tion to  this  man,  than  that  he  rose  without  my  assistance ; 
a  cause  of  dislike,  which,  in  the  reign  of  great  and  powerful 
favourites,  hath  often  proved  fatal  to  the  persons  who  have 
given  it,  as  the  persons  thus  raised  inspire  us  constantly 
with  jealousies  and  apprehensions.  For  when  we  promote 
any  one  ourselves,  we  take  effectual  care  to  preserve  such  an 
ascendancy  over  him,  that  we  can  at  any  time  reduce  him  to 
his  former  degree,  should  he  dare  to  act  in  opposition  to 
our  wills ;  for  which  reason  we  never  suffer  any  to  come 
near  the  prince,  but  such  as  we  are  assured  it  is  impossible 
should  be  capable  of  engaging  or  improving  his  affection; 
no  prime-minister,  as  I  apprehend,  esteeming  himself  to  be 
safe,  while  any  other  shares  the  ear  of  his  prince,  of  whom 
we  are  as  jealous  as  the  fondest  husband  can  be  of  his  wife. 
Whoever,  therefore,  can  approach  him  by  any  other  chan- 
nel tlian  that  of  ourselves,  is  in  our  opinion  a  declared 
enemy,  and  one  whom  the  first  principles  of  policy  oblige 
us  to  demolish  with  the  utmost  expedition.  For  the  affec- 
tion of  kings  is  as  precarious  as  that  of  women,  and  the 


302  A   JOURNEY   FROM   THIS 

ouly  way  to  secure  either  to  ourselves  is  to  keep  all  others 
from  them. 

"  But  the  archlnsliop  did  not  let  matters  rest  on  suspi- 
cion. He  soon  gave  open  proofs  of  his  interest  with  the 
Confessor,  in  procuring  an  office  of  some  importance  for 
one  Rollo,  a  Roman  of  mean  extraction,  and  very  despica- 
ble parts.  When  I  represented  to  the  king  the  indecency 
of  conferring  such  an  honour  on  such  a  fellow,  he  answered 
me,  '  That  he  was  the  archbishop's  relation.'  '  Then,  sir,' 
replied  I,  '  he  is  related  to  your  enemy.'  '  Xothing  more 
passed  at  that  time:  but  I  soon  perceived  by  the  arch- 
bishop's behaviour,  that  the  king  had  acquainted  him  with 
our  private  discourse ;  a  sufficient  assurance  of  his  confi- 
dence in  him,  and  neglect  of  me. 

"The  favour  of  princes,  when  once  lost,  is  recoverable 
only  by  the  gaining  a  situation  which  may  make  you  terri- 
ble to  them.  As  I  had  no  doubt  of  having  lost  all  credit 
with  this  kingf  which  indeed,  had  been  originally  founded 
and  constantly  supported  by  his  fear,  so  I  took  the  method 
of  terror  to  regain  it. 

"The  earl  of  Boulogne  coming  over  to  visit  the  king,  gave 
me  an  opportunity  of  breaking  out  into  open  opposition : 
for  as  the  earl  was  on  his  return  to  France,  one  of  his 
servants,  who  was  sent  before  to  procure  lodgings  at  Dover, 
and  insisted  on  having  them  in  the  house  of  a  private  man 
in  spite  of  the  owner's  teeth,  was,  in  a  fray  which  ensued, 
killed  on  the  spot ;  and  the  earl  himself,  arriving  there  soon 
after,  very  narrowly  escaped  with  his  life.  The  earl,  en- 
raged at  this  affront,  returned  to  the  king  at  Gloucester, 
with  loud  complaints  and  demands  of  satisfaction.  Ed- 
ward consented  to  his  demands  and  ordered  me  to  chastise 
the  rioters,  who  were  under  my  government  as  earl  of 
Kent :  but  instead  of  obeying  these  orders,  I  answered  with 
some  Avarmth,  that  the  English  were  not  used  to  punish 
people  unheard  ;  nor  ought  their  rights  and  privileges  to  be 
"violated ;  that  the  accused  should  be  first  summoned :  if 


WORLD  TO  THE  NEXT,  &c.  303 

guilty,  should  make  satisfaction  both  with  body  and  estate ; 
but  if  innocent,  should  be  discharged.  Adding,  with  great 
ferocity,  that  as  earl  of  Kent  it  was  my  duty  to  protect 
those  under  my  government  against  the  insults  of  for- 
eigners. 

"  This  accident  was  extremely  lucky,  as  it  gave  my  quar- 
rel with  the  king  a  popular  colour ;  and  so  ingratiated  me 
with  the  people,  that  when  I  set  up  my  standard,  which  I 
soon  after  did,  they  readily  and  cheerfully  listed  under  my 
banners,  and  embraced  my  cause,  which  I  persuaded  them 
was  their  own :  for  that  it  was  to  protect  them  against  for- 
eigners that  I  had  drawn  my  sword.  The  word  foreigners 
with  an  Englishman  hath  a  kind  of  magical  effect,  they  hav- 
ing the  utmost  hatred  and  aversion  to  them,  arising  from 
the  cruelties  they  suffered  from  the  Danes,  and  some  other 
foreign  nations.  jSTo  wonder  therefore  they  espoused  my 
cause  in  a  quarrel  which  had  such  a  beginning. 

"  Eut  what  may  be  somewhat  more  remarkable  is,  that 
when  I  afterguards  returned  to  England  from  banishment, 
and  was  at  the  head  of  an  army  of  the  Flemish,  who  were 
preparing  to  plunder  the  city  of  London,  I  still  persisted 
that  I  was  come  to  defend  the  English  from  the  danger  of 
foreigners,  and  gained  their  credit.  Indeed,  there  is  no  lie 
so  gross  but  it  may  be  imposed  on  the  people  by  those  whom 
they  esteem  their  patrons  and  defenders. 

"  The  king  saved  his  city  by  being  reconciled  to  me,  and 
taking  again  my  daughter  whom  he  had  put  away  from 
him ;  and  thus  having  frightened  the  king  into  what  conces- 
sions I  thought  proper,  I  dismissed  my  army  and  fleet,  with 
which  I  intended,  could  I  not  have  succeeded  otherwise,  to 
have  sacked  the  city  of  London  and  ravaged  the  whole 
country. 

"  I  was  no  sooner  re-established  in  the  king's  favor,  or 
what  was  as  well  for  me,  the  appearance  of  it,  than  I  fell 
violently  on  the  archbishop.  He  had  of  himself  retired  to 
his  monastery  in  Kormandy ;  but  that  did  not  content  me,  I 


304  A   JOURNEY  FROM   THIS 

had  hiiu  formally  banished,  the  see  declared  vacant,  and 
then  filled  up  by  another. 

''  I  enjoyed  my  grandeur  a  very  short  time  after  my  res- 
toration to  it ;  for  the  king  hating  and  fearing  me  to  a  very 
great  degree,  and  finding  no  means  of  openly  destroying 
me,  at  last  offocted  his  purpose  by  poison,  and  then  spread 
abroad  a  ridiculous  story  of  my  wishing  tlie  next  morsel 
might  choke  me,  if  I  had  had  any  hand  in  the  death  of 
Alfred ;  and,  accordingly,  that  the  next  morsel,  by  a  divine 
judgment,  stuck  in  my  throat,  and  performed  that  oftice. 

"  This  of  a  statesman  was  one  of  my  worst  stages  in  the 
other  world.  It  is  a  post  subjected  daily  to  the  greatest 
danger  and  inquietude,  and  attended  with  little  pleasure, 
and  less  ease.  In  a  word,  it  is  a  pill,  which,  was  it  not 
gilded  over  by  ambition,  would  appear  nauseous  and  detes- 
table in  the  eye  of  every  one;  and  perhaps  that  is  one 
reason  why  Minos  so  greatly  compassionates  the  case  of 
those  who  swallow  it :  for  that  just  judge  told  me  he  always 
acquitted  a  prime  minister,  who  could  produce  one  single 
good  action  in  his  whole  life,  let  him  have  committed  ever 
so  many  crimes.  Indeed,  I  understood  him  a  little  too 
largely,  and  was  stepping  towards  the  gate :  but  he  pulled 
me  by  the  sleeve,  and  telling  me  no  prime  minister  ever 
entered  there,  bid  me  go  back  again ;  saying,  he  thought  I 
had  sufiicient  reason  to  rejoice  in  escaping  the  bottomless 
pit,  which  half  my  crimes  committed  in  any  other  capacity 
would  have  entitled  me  to. 


CHAPTER  XXI. 

Julian's  adventures  in  the  post  of  a  Soldier. 

"  I  WAS  born  at  Caen  in  Xormandy.  My  mother's  name 
was  Matilda  ;  as  for  my  father,  I  am  not  so  certain ;  for  the 
good  woman  on  her  death-bed  assured  me,  she  herself  could 
bring  her  guess  to  no  greater  certainty  than  to  five  of  duke 


I  was  stepping  toward  the  gale  ;  but  he  pulled  me  by  the  sleeve,  and 
telling  me  no  prime  minister  ever  entered  there. 

Engraved  by  J.  Collyer,from  a  drawing  by  M.  Rooker  (ryS?). 


304  A   JOVIiSKY   FROM   THIS 

had  him  formally  i  ihc  see  declared  vacant,  and 

then  filled  up  1 


I 


eni' 


r  my  res- 


toratioT  to  a  very 

gren  "Stroying 

...d 

-1 
me,  if  i  had  had  any  •  h  of 

''      ''  .  that,  tiie  ii>  .> 

iiroat,  and  pt 
'*  This  of  a  statesman  was  one  of  my  v^orst  stages  in  the 
other  world.  It  is  a  post  subjected  daily  to  the  greatest 
danger  and  inquietude,  and  attended  with  little  pleasure, 
and  less  ease.  In  a  word,  it  is  a  pill,,  which,  was  it  not 
gilded  over  by  ambition,  would  appear  n; 
table  in  the  eye  of  every  one;  and  pt !      ,  .' 

reason  why  Minos  so  greatly  compassionates  the  case  of 
those  who  swallow  it :  for  that  just  judge  told  me  he  always 
acquitted  a  prime  minister,  who  could  produce  one  single 
good  action  in  his  whole  life,  let  him  have  committed  ever 
so  many  crimes.  Indeed,  I  understood  him  a  little  too 
largely,  and  was  stepping  towards  the  gate :  but  he  pulled 
me  by  the  sleeve,  and  telling  me  no  prime  minister  ever 
entered  there,  bid  me  go  back  again ;  saying,  he  thought  I 
hud  sufficient  reason  to  rejoice  in  escaping  the  bottomless 
pit,  which  half  my  crimes  committed  in  any  other  capacity 
would  have  entitled  me  to. 


CHAPTER  XXI. 

res  in  the  po9t  cf  a  Soldier. 

i>na",li}ys)ft'\fpv,}^  ■  r'sname 

was  Matilda  ;j*>»ii.v  '^iii ;  for  the 

good  w?miaa  on  'h.at  ,.■...  Ijerself  could 

bring  her  guess  to  no  greater  certainty  than  to  five  of  duke 


CuftfrujkziSDicy  Crosa-ip  d.  SUtVjki  C. 


M  Eocner,  a^i. 


WORLD  TO  THE  NEXT,  £c.  305 

William's  captains.  When  I  was  no  more  than  thirteen 
(being,  indeed,  a  surprising  stout  boy  of  my  age)  I  enlisted 
into  the  army  of  duke  William,  afterwards  known  by  the 
name  of  William  the  Conqueror;  landed  with  him  at 
Pemesey,  or  Pemsey  in  Sussex,  and  was  present  at  the 
famous  battle  of  Hastings. 

"  At  the  first  onset  it  was  impossible  to  describe  my  con- 
sternation, which  was  heightened  by  the  fall  of  two  soldiers, 
who  stood  by  me ;  but  this  soon  abated,  and  by  degrees,  as 
my  blood  grew  warm,  I  thought  no  more  of  my  own  safety, 
but  fell  on  the  enemy  with  great  fury,  and  did  a  good  deal 
of  execution ;  till  unhappily  I  received  a  wound  in  my 
thigh,  which  rendered  me  unable  to  stand  any  longer,  so 
that  I  now  lay  among  the  dead,  and  was  constantly  exposed 
to  the  danger  of  being  trampled  to  death ;  as  well  by  my 
fellow-soldiers  as  by  the  enemy.  However,  I  had  the  for- 
tune to  escape  it,  and  continued  the  remaining  part  of  the 
day,  and  the  night  following,  on  the  ground. 

"The  next  morning,  the  duke  sending  out  parties  to  bring 
off  the  wounded,  I  was  found  almost  expiring  with  loss  of 
blood ;  notwithstanding  which,  as  immediate  care  was  taken 
to  dress  my  wounds,  youth  and  a  robust  constitution  stood 
my  friends,  and  I  recovered,  after  a  long  and  tedious  indis- 
position, and  was  again  able  to  use  my  limbs  and  do  my 
duty. 

"As  soon  as  Dover  was  taken,  I  was  conveyed  thither 
with  all  the  rest  of  the  sick  and  wounded.  Here  I  recovered 
of  my  wound ;  but  fell  afterwards  into  a  violent  flux,  which, 
when  it  departed,  left  me  so  weak  that  it  was  long  before  I 
could  regain  my  strength.  And  what  most  afflicted  me  was, 
that  during  my  whole  illness,  when  I  languished  under 
want  as  well  as  sickness,  I  had  daily  the  mortification  to 
see  and  hear  the  riots  and  excess  of  my  fellow-soldiers,  who 
had  happily  escaped  safe  from  the  battle. 

"  I  was  no  sooner  well  than  I  was  ordered  into  garrison 
at  Dover  Castle.  The  officers  here  fared  very  indifferently; 
20 


306  A  JOURNEY  FROM   TUIS 

but  the  private  men  imu-li  worso.  Wo  liad  great  scarcity  of 
provisions,  and,  what  was  yet  more  intolerable,  were  so 
closely  confined  for  want  of  rouni  (four  of  us  being  obliged 
to  lie  on  the  same  bundle  of  straw)  that  many  died,  and 
most  sickened. 

"  Here  I  had  remained  about  four  months,  when  one 
night  we  were  alarmed  with  the  arrival  of  the  earl  of  J3ou- 
logne,  who  had  come  over  privily  from  France,  and  en- 
deavoured to  surprise  the  castle.  The  design  proved  in- 
elfectual ;  for  the  garrison  making  a  brisk  sally,  most  of  his 
men  were  tumbled  down  the  precipice,  and  he  returned 
with  ver\'  few  back  to  France.  In  tliis  action,  however,  I 
bad  the  misfortune  to  come  oif  with  a  broken  arm ;  it  was 
so  shattered,  that  besides  a  great  deal  of  pain  and  misery, 
which  I  endured  in  my  cure,  I  was  disabled  for  upwards 
of  three  months. 

"  Soon  after  my  recovery,  I  had  contracted  an  amour 
with  a  young  woman,  whose  parents  lived  near  the  garri- 
son, and  were  in  much  better  circumstances  than  I  had 
reason  to  expect  should  give  their  consent  to  the  match. 
However,  as  she  was  extremely  fond  of  me  (as  I  was  in- 
deed distractedly  enamoured  of  her),  they  were  prevailed 
on  to  comply  with  her  desires,  and  the  day  was  fixed  for 
our  marriage. 

"  On  the  evening  preceding,  while  I  was  exulting  with 
the  eager  expectation  of  the  happiness  I  was  the  next  day 
to  enjoy,  I  received  orders  to  march  early  in  the  morning 
towards  Windsor,  where  a  large  army  was  to  be  formed, 
at  the  head  of  which  the  king  intended  to  march  into  the 
West.  Any  person,  who  hath  ever  been  in  love,  may  easily 
imagine  what  I  felt  in  my  mind,  on  receiving  those  orders ; 
and  what  still  heightened  my  torments  was,  that  the  com- 
manding officer  would  not  permit  any  one  to  go  out  of  the 
garrison  that  evening;  so  that  I  had  not  even  an  opportu- 
nity of  taking  leave  of  my  beloved. 

"  The  morning  came  which  was  to  have  put  me  in  the 


WORLD  TO  THE  NEXT,  dec.  307 

possession  of  my  wishes;  but  alas  I  the  scene  was  now 
changed,  and  all  the  hopes  which  I  had  raised,  were  now  so 
many  ghosts  to  haunt,  and  furies  to  torment  me. 

"  It  was  now  the  midst  of  winter,  and  very  severe 
weather  for  the  season;  when  we  were  obliged  to  make 
very  long  and  fatiguing  marches,  in  which  Ave  suffered  all 
the  inconveniences  of  cold  and  hunger.  The  night  in 
which  I  expected  to  riot  in  the  arms  of  my  beloved  mis- 
tress, I  was  obliged  to  take  up  with  a  lodging  on  the 
ground,  exposed  to  the  inclemencies  of  a  rigid  frost;  nor 
could  I  obtain  the  least  comfort  of  sleep,  which  shunned 
me  as  its  enemy.  In  short,  the  horrors  of  that  night  are 
not  to  be  described,  or  perhaps  imagined.  They  made 
such  an  impression  on  my  soul,  that  I  was  forced  to  be 
dipped  three  times  in  the  river  Lethe  to  prevent  my  re- 
membering it  in  the  characters  which  I  afterwards  per- 
formed in  the  flesh." 

Here  I  interrupted  Julian  for  the  first  time,  and  told 
him,  no  such  dipping  had  happened  to  me  in  my  voyage 
from  one  world  to  the  other :  but  he  satisfied  me  by  saying, 
"  That  this  only  happened  to  those  spirits  which  returned 
into  the  flesh,  in  order  to  prevent  that  reminiscence  which 
Plato  mentions,  and  which  would  otherwise  cause  great 
confusion  in  the  other  world." 

He  then  proceeded  as  follows :  "  We  continued  a  very 
laborious  march  to  Exeter,  which  we  were  ordered  to  be- 
seige.  The  town  soon  surrendered,  and  his  majesty  built 
a  castle  there,  which  he  garrisoned  with  his  l^ormans,  and 
unhappily  I  had  the  misfortune  to  be  one  of  the  number. 

"  Here  we  were  confined  closer  than  I  had  been  at 
Dover;  for,  as  the  citizens  Avere  extremely  disaffected,  we 
were  never  suffered  to  go  without  the  walls  of  the  castle; 
nor  indeed  could  we,  unless  in  large  bodies,  without  the 
utmost  danger.  We  were  likewise  kept  to  continual  duty, 
nor  could  any  solicitations  prevail  with  the  commanding 
officer  to  give  me  a  month's  absence  to  visit  my  love,  from' 


303  A   JOURNEY  FROM   THIS 

whom  I  had  no  opportunity  of  hearing  in  all  my  long 
ahsence. 

"  However,  in  the  spring,  the  people  being  more  quiet, 
and  another  officer  of  a  gentler  temper  succeeding  to  the 
principal  command,  I  obtained  leave  to  go  to  Dover:  Imt 
alas  !  what  comfort  did  my  long  journey  bring  me  ?  I  found 
the  parents  of  my  darling  in  the  utmost  misery  at  her  loss; 
for  she  had  died,  about  a  week  before  my  arrival,  of  a  eon- 
sumption,  which  they  imputed  to  her  pining  at  my  sudden 
departure. 

"  I  now  fell  into  the  most  violent  and  almost  raving  fit  of 
despair.  I  cursed  myself,  the  king,  and  the  whole  world, 
which  no  longer  seemed  to  have  any  delight  for  me.  I 
threw  myself  on  the  grave  of  my  deceased  love,  and  lay 
there  without  any  kind  of  sustenance  for  two  whole  days. 
At  last  hunger,  together  with  the  persuasions  of  some  peo- 
ple who  took  pity  on  me,  prevailed  with  me  to  quit  that 
situation,  and  refresh  myself  with  food.  They  then  per- 
suaded me  to  return  to  my  post,  and  abandon  a  place  where 
almost  every  object  I  saw,  recalled  ideas  to  my  mind, 
which,  as  they  said,  I  should  endeavour  with  my  utmost 
force  to  expel  from  it.  This  advice  at  length  succeeded; 
the  rather,  as  the  father  and  mother  of  my  beloved  refused 
to  see  me,  looking  on  me  as  the  innocent  but  certain  cause 
of  the  death  of  their  only  child. 

"The  loss  of  one  we  tenderly  love,  as  it  is  one  of  the  most 
bitter  and  biting  evils  which  attends  human  life,  so  it 
wants  the  lenitive  which  palliates  and  softens  every  other 
calamity ;  I  mean  that  great  reliever  hope.  ]^o  man  can 
be  so  totally  undone,  but  that  he  may  still  cherish  expec- 
tation: but  this  deprives  us  of  all  such  comfort,  nor  can 
anything  but  time  alone  lessen  it.  This  however,  in  most 
minds,  is  sure  to  work  a  slow  but  effectual  remedy ;  so  did 
it  in  mine :  for,  within  a  twelvemonth,  I  was  entirely  recon- 
ciled to  my  fortune,  and  soon  after  absolutely  forgot  the 
object  of  a  passion  from  which  I  had  promised  myself  such 


WORLD  TO  TEE  NEXT,  &c.  309 

extreme  happiness,  and  in  tlie  disappointment  of  which  I 
had  experienced  such  inconceivable  misery. 

"At  the  expiration  of  the  month,  I  returned  to  mj  gar- 
rison at  Exeter ;  where  I  was  no  sooner  arrived,  than  I  was 
ordered  to  march  into  the  north,  to  oppose  a  force  there 
levied  by  the  earls  of  Chester  and  ISTorthumberland.  We 
came  to  York,  where  his  majesty  pardoned  the  heads  of  the 
rebels,  and  very  severely  punished  some  who  were  less 
guilty.  It  was  particularly  my  lot  to  be  ordered  to  seize  a 
poor  man,  who  had  never  been  out  of  his  house,  and  convey 
him  to  prison.  I  detested  this  barbarity,  yet  was  obliged  to 
execute  it;  nay,  though  no  reward  would  have  bribed  me  in 
a  private  capacity  to  have  acted  such  a  part,  yet  so  much 
sanctity  is  there  in  the  commands  of  a  monarch,  or  general, 
to  a  soldier,  that  I  performed  it  without  reluctance,  nor  had 
the  tears  of  his  wife  and  family  any  prevalence  with  me. 

"  But  this,  M'hich  was  a  very  small  piece  of  mischief  in 
comparison  with  many  of  my  barbarities  afterwards,  was 
however  the  only  one  which  ever  gave  me  any  uneasiness ; 
for  when  the  king  led  us  afterwards  into  ISTorthumberland 
to  revenge  those  people's  having  joined  with  Osborne  the 
Dane  in  his  invasion,  and  orders  were  given  us  to  commit 
what  ravages  we  could,  I  was  forward  in  fulfilling  them, 
and  among  some  lesser  cruelties  (I  remember  it  yet  with 
sorrow)  I  ravished  a  woman,  murdered  a  little  infant  play- 
ing in  her  lap,  and  then  burnt  her  house.  In  short,  for  I 
have  no  pleasure  in  this  part  of  my  relation,  I  had  my 
share  in  all  the  cruelties  exercised  on  those  poor  wretches ; 
which  were  so  grievous,  that  for  sixty  miles  together,  be- 
tween York  and  Durham,  not  a  single  house,  church,  or 
any  other  public  or  private  edifice  was  left  standing, 

"  We  had  pretty  well  devoured  the  country,  when  we 
were  ordered  to  march  to  the  Isle  of  Ely,  to  oppose  Here- 
ward,  a  bold  and  stout  soldier,  who  had  under  him  a  very 
large  body  of  rebels,  who  had  the  impudence  to  rise  against 
their  king  and  conqueror  (I  talk  now  in  the  same  style  I 


310  A   JOURNEY  FROM   THIS 

did  then)  iu  defense  of  their  liberties,  as  they  called  them. 
These  were  soon  subdued,  but  as  I  happened  (more  to  my 
glory  than  my  comfort)  to  be  posted  in  that  part  through 
■which  Ilereward  cut  his  way,  I  received  a  dreadful  cut  on 
the  forehead,  a  second  on  the  shoulder,  and  was  run  through 
the  body  with  a  pike. 

"  I  languished  a  long  time  with  these  wounds,  which 
made  me  incapable  of  attending  the  king  into  Scotland. 
However,  I  was  able  to  go  over  with  him  afterwards  into 
Kormandy,  in  his  expedition  against  Philip,  who  had 
taken  the  opportunity  of  the  troubles  in  England,  to  invade 
that  province.  Those  few  Normans  who  had  survived  their 
wounds,  and  had  remained  in  the  isle  of  Ely,  were  all  of 
our  nation  who  went,  the  rest  of  his  army  being  all  com- 
posed of  English.  In  a  skirmish  near  the  town  of  Mans, 
my  leg  was  broke,  and  so  shattered,  that  it  was  forced  to  be 
cut  off, 

"  I  was  now  disabled  from  serving  longer  in  the  army; 
and  accordingly,  being  discharged  from  the  service,  I  re- 
tired to  the  place  of  my  nativity,  where,  in  extreme  poverty, 
and  frequent  bad  health  from  the  many  wounds  I  had  re- 
ceived, I  dragged  on  a  miserable  life  to  the  age  of  sixty- 
three  ;  my  only  pleasure  being  to  recount  the  feats  of  my 
youth,  in  which  narratives  I  generally  exceeded  the  truth. 

"  It  would  1)0  tedious  and  unpleasant  to  recount  to  you 
the  several  miseries  I  suffered  after  my  return  to  Caen;  let 
it  suffice,  they  were  so  terrible,  that  they  induced  Minos  to 
compassionate  me,  and  notwitlistanding  the  barbarities  I 
had  been  guilty  of  in  ^Northumberland,  to  suffer  me  to  go 
ionce  more  back  to  earth." 


WORLD  TO  TEE  NEXT,  &c,  311 


CHAPTER  XXII. 
What  happened  to  Julian  in  the  person  of  a  Tailor. 

"  Fortune  now  stationed  me  in  a  cliaracter  which  the 
ingratitude  of  mankind  hath  put  them  on  ridiculing, 
though  they  owe  to  it  not  only  a  relief  from  the  inclemen- 
cies of  cold,  to  which  the  would  otherwise  be  exposed,  but 
likewise  a  considerable  satisfaction  of  their  vanity.  The 
character  I  mean  was  that  of  a  tailor ;  which,  if  we  con- 
sider it  with  due  attention,  must  be  confessed  to  have  in  it 
great  dignity  and  importance.  For,  in  reality,  who  con- 
stitutes the  different  degrees  between  men  but  the  tailor? 
the  prince,  indeed,  gives  the  title,  but  it  is  the  tailor  who 
makes  the  man.  To  his  labours  are  owing  the  respect  of 
crowds,  and  the  awe  which  great  men  inspire  into  their  be- 
holders, though  these  are  too  often  unjustly  atributed  to 
other  motives.  Lastly,  the  admiration  of  the  fair  is  most 
commonly  to  be  placed  to  his  account. 

"  I  was  just  set  up  in  my  trade,  when  I  made  three  suits 
of  fine  clothes  for  king  Stephen's  coronation.  I  question 
whether  the  person  who  wears  the  rich  coat,  hath  so  much 
pleasure  and  vanity  in  being  admired  in  it,  as  we  tailors 
have  from  that  admiration ;  and,  prehaps,  a  philosopher 
would  say,  he  is  not  so  well  entitled  to  it.  I  bustled  on  tlie 
day  of  the  ceremony  through  the  crowd,  and  it  was  with 
incredible  delight  I  heard  several  say,  as  my  clothes 
walked  by,  bless  me,  was  ever  anything  so  fine  as  the  earl 
of  Devonshire !  Sure  he  and  Sir  Hugh  Bigot  are  the  two 
best  dressed  men  I  ever  saw.  'Now  both  those  suits  were  of 
my  making. 

"  There  would  indeed  be  infinite  pleasure  in  working  for 
the  courtiers,  as  they  are  generally  genteel  men,  and  show 
one's  clothes  to  the  best  advantage,  was  it  not  for  one  small 
discouragement;  that  is,  that  they  never  pay.     I  solemnly 


312  A   JOURNEY  FROM  THIS 

protest,  though  I  lost  almost  as  much  by  the  court  in  my 
life  as  I  got  by  the  city,  I  never  carried  a  suit  into  the  latter 
with  half  the  satisfaction  which  I  have  done  to  the  former ; 
though  from  that  I  was  certain  of  ready  money,  and  from 
this  almost  as  certain  of  no  money  at  all. 

"  Courtiers  may,  however,  be  divided  into  two  sorts,  very 
essentially  different  from  each  other ;  into  those  who  never 
intend  to  pay  for  their  clothes ;  and  those  who  do  intend  to 
pay  for  them,  but  never  happen  to  be  able.  Of  the  latter 
sort,  are  many  of  those  young  gentlemen  whom  we  equip 
out  for  the  army,  and  who  are,  unhappily  for  us,  cut  off 
before  they  arrive  at  preferment.  This  is  the  reason  that 
tailors  in  time  of  war  are  mistaken  for  politicians,  by  their 
inquisitiveness  into  the  event  of  battles,  one  campaign  very 
often  proving  the  ruin  of  half  a  dozen  of  us.  I  am  sure 
I  had  frequent  reason  to  curse  that  fatal  battle  of  Cardigan, 
where  the  "Welsh  defeated  some  of  King  Stephen's  best 
troops,  and  where  many  a  good  suit  of  mine,  unpaid  for, 
fell  to  the  ground. 

"  The  gentlemen  of  this  honourable  calling  have  fared 
much  better  in  later  ages  than  when  I  was  of  it :  for  now  it 
seems  the  fashion  is,  when  they  apprehend  their  customer 
is  not  in  the  best  circumstances,  if  they  are  not  paid  as  soon 
as  they  carry  home  the  suit,  they  charge  him  in  their  book 
as  much  again  as  it  is  worth,  and  then  send  a  gentleman 
with  a  small  scrip  of  parchment  to  demand  the  money.  If 
this  be  not  immediately  paid,  the  gentleman  takes  the  beau 
with  him  to  his  house,  where  he  locks  him  up  till  the  tailor 
is  contented :  but  in  my  time,  these  scrips  of  parchment 
were  not  in  use;  and  if  the  beau  disliked  paying  for  his 
clothes,  as  very  often  happened,  we  had  no  method  of  com- 
pelling him. 

''In  several  of  the  characters  which  I  have  related  to  you, 
I  apprehend,  I  have  sometimes  forgot  myself,  and  consid- 
ered myself  as  really  interested,  as  I  was  when  I  person- 
ated them  on  earth,  I  have  just  now  caught  myself  in  the 


WORLD  TO  TEE  NEXT,  &c.  313 

fact;  for  I  have  complained  to  you  as  bitterly  of  my  cus- 
tomers as  I  formerly  used  to  do  when  I  was  the  tailor :  but, 
in  reality,  though  there  were  some  few  persons  of  very 
great  quality,  and  some  others,  who  never  paid  tlieir  debts ; 
yet  those  were  but  a  few,  and  I  had  a  method  of  repairing 
this  loss.  My  customers  I  divided  under  three  heads :  those 
who  paid  ready  money,  those  who  paid  slow,  and  those  who 
never  paid  at  all.  The  first  of  these,  I  considered  apart  by 
themselves,  as  persons  by  Avhom  I  got  a  certain  but  small 
profit.  The  two  last  I  lumped  together,  making  those  who 
paid  slow,  contribute  to  repair  my  losses  by  those  who  did 
not  pay  at  all.  Thus,  upon  the  w^hole,  I  was  a  very  incon- 
siderable loser,  and  might  have  left  a  fortune  to  my  family, 
had  I  not  launched  forth  into  expenses  which  swallowed  up 
all  my  gains.  I  had  a  wife,  and  two  children.  These  in- 
deed I  kept  frugally  enough ;  for  I  half  starved  them ;  but 
I  kept  a  mistress  in  a  finer  way,  for  whom  I  had  a  country 
house,  pleasantly  situated  on  the  Thames,  elegantly  fitted 
up,  and  neatly  furnished.  This  woman  might  very  properly 
be  called  my  mistress ;  for  she  was  most  absolutely  so ;  and 
though  her  tenure  was  no  higher  than  by  my  will,  she 
domineered  as  tyrannically,  as  if  my  chains  had  been  rivet- 
ed in  the  strongest  manner.  To  all  this  I  submitted,  not 
through  any  adoration  of  her  beauty,  which  was  indeed 
but  indifferent.  Her  charms  consisted  in  little  wanton- 
nesses,  which  she  knew  admirably  well  to  use  in  hours  of 
dalliance,  and  which,  I  believe,  are  of  all  things  the  most 
delightful  to  a  lover. 

"  She  was  so  profusely  extravagant,  that  it  seemed  as  if 
she  had  an  actual  intent  to  ruin  me.  This  I  am  sure  of,  if 
such  had  been  her  real  intention,  she  could  have  taken  no 
properer  way  to  accomplish  it ;  nay,  I  myself  might  appear 
to  have  had  the  same  view:  for  besides  this  extravagant 
mistress,  and  my  country-house,  I  kept  likewise  a  brace  of 
himters,  rather  for  that  it  was  fashionable  so  to  do,  than  for 
any  great  delight  I  took  in  the  sport,  which  I  very  little 


314  A   JOURNEY  FROM   THIS 

attended;  not  for  want  of  leisure,  for  few  noblemen  had 
so  much.  All  the  work  I  ever  did  was  taking  measure,  and 
that  only  of  my  greatest  and  best  customers.  I  scarce  ever 
cut  a  i)iece  of  cloth  in  my  life,  nor  was  indeed  mucli  more 
able  to  fashion  a  coat  than  any  gentleman  in  the  kingdom. 
This  made  a  skilful  servant  too  necessary  to  me.  He  knew 
I  must  submit  to  any  terms  with,  or  any  treatment  from 
him.  He  knew  it  was  easier  for  him  to  find  another  such  a 
tailor  as  me,  than  for  me  to  procure  such  another  workman 
as  him:  for  this  season,  he  exerted  the  most  notorious  and 
cruel  tyranny,  seldom  giving  me  a  civil  word  :  nor  could  the 
utmost  condescension  on  my  side,  though  attended  with  con- 
tinual presents  and  rewards,  and  raising  his  wages,  content 
or  please  him.  In  a  word,  he  was  as  absolutely  my  master, 
as  was  ever  an  aml)itious,  industrious  prime  minister  over 
an  indolent  and  voluptuous  king.  All  my  other  journey- 
men paid  more  respect  to  him  than  to  me ;  for  they  consid- 
ered my  favor  as  a  necessary  cousequnce  of  obtaining  his. 
"  These  were  the  most  remarkable  occurrences  w^hile  I 
acted  this  part.  Minos  hesitated  a  few  moments,  and  then 
bid  me  get  back  again,  without  assigning  any  reason." 


CHAPTEK  XXIII. 
Tlie  life  of  Alderman  Julian. 

"  I  NOW  revisited  England,  and  w^as  born  at  London. 
My  father  was  one  of  the  magistrates  of  that  city.  He  had 
eleven  children,  of  whom  I  was  the  eldest.  He  had  great 
success  in  trade,  and  grew  extremely  rich,  but  the  largeness 
of  his  family  rendered  it  impossible  for  him  to  leave  me 
a  fortune  sufficient  to  live  well  on,  independent  of  business. 
I  was  accordingly  brought  up  to  be  a  fishmonger :  in  which 
capacity  I  myself  afterwards  acquired  very  considerable 
wealth. 

"The  same  disposition  of   mind,which  in  princes  is  called 


WORLD  TO  THE  NEXT,  &c.  315 

ambition,  is  in  subjects  named  faction.  To  this  temper  I 
was  greatly  addicted  from  my  youth.  I  was,  while  a  boy, 
a  great  partisan  of  prince  John's  against  his  brother  Rich- 
ard, during  the  latter's  absence  in  the  holy  war,  and  in  his 
captivity.  I  was  no  more  than  one-and-twenty,  when  I 
first  began  to  make  political  speeches  in  public,  and  to  en- 
deavour to  foment  disquietude  and  discontent  in  the  city. 
As  I  was  pretty  well  qualified  for  this  ofiice,  by  a  great 
fluency  of  words,  an  harmonious  accent,  a  graceful  deliv- 
ery, and  above  all  an  invincible  assurance,  I  had  soon 
acquired  some  reputation  among  the  younger  citizens,  and 
some  of  the  weaker  and  more  inconsiderate  of  a  riper  age. 
This,  co-operating  with  my  own  natural  vanity,  made  me 
extravagantly  proud  and  supercilious.  I  soon  began  to 
esteem  myself  a  man  of  some  consequence,  and  to  overlook 
persons  every  way  my  superiors. 

"  The  famous  Robin  Hood  and  his  companion  Little 
John,  at  this  time  made  a  considerable  figure  in  Yorkshire. 
I  took  upon  me  to  write  a  letter  to  the  former,  in  the  name 
of  the  city,  inviting  him  to  come  to  London,  where  I  as- 
sured him  of  very  good  reception,  signifying  to  him  my 
own  great  weight  and  consequence,  and  how  much  I  had 
disposed  the  citizens  in  his  favor.  Whether  he  received  this 
letter  or  no,  I  am  not  certain;  but  he  never  gave  me  any 
answer  to  it. 

"  A  little  afterwards  one  William  Fitz-Osborn,  or,  as  he 
was  nicknamed,  William  Long-Beard,  began  to  make  a 
figure  in  the  city.  He  was  a  bold  and  an  impudent  fellow, 
and  had  raised  himself  to  great  popularity  with  the  rabble, 
by  pretending  to  espouse  their  cause  against  the  rich.  I  took 
this  man's  part,  and  made  a  public  oration  in  his  favor,  set- 
ting him  forth  as  a  patriot,  and  one  who  had  embarked  in 
the  cause  of  liberty:  for  which  service  he  did  not  receive 
me  with  the  acknowledgments  I  expected.  However,  as  I 
thought  I  should  easily  gain  the  ascendant  over  this  fellow, 
I  continued  still  firm  on  his  side,  till  the  archbishop  of 


31G  .1   JOURNEY  FROM   THIS 

Canterbury,  ^vitll  an  armed  force,  put  an  end  to  bis  pro- 
gress; for  he  was  seized  in  Bow  church,  where  he  had  taken 
refuge,  and  witli  nine  of  bis  accomplices  ban,c;ed  in  chains. 

^'I  escaped  narrowly  niysclf ;  for  I  was  seized  in  the  same 
church  with  the  rest,  and  as  I  liad  been  very  considerably 
engaged  in  the  enterprise,  the  archbisboj)  was  inclined  to 
make  me  an  examjile ;  but  my  father's  merit,  who  had  ad- 
vanced a  considerable  sum  to  queen  Eleanor,  towards  the 
king's  ransom,  preserved  me. 

"  The  consternation  my  danger  had  occasioned,  kept  me 
some  time  quiet,  and  I  applied  myself  very  assiduously  to 
my  trade,  I  invented  all  manner  of  methods  to  enhance 
the  price  of  fish,  and  made  use  of  my  utmost  endeavors  to 
engross  as  much  of  the  business  as  possible  in  my  o\\ti 
hands.  By  these  means  I  acquired  a  substance,  which 
raised  me  to  some  little  consequence  in  the  city :  but  far 
from  elevating  me  to  that  degree,  which  I  had  formerly 
flattered  myself  with  possessing,  at  a  time  when  I  was 
totally  insignificant ;  for  in  a  trading  society,  money  must 
at  least  lay  the  foundation  of  all  power  and  interest. 

"  But  as  it  hath  been  remarked,  that  the  same  ambition 
which  sent  Alexander  into  Asia,  brings  the  wrestler  on  the 
green,  and  as  this  same  ambition  is  as  incapable  as  quick- 
silver of  lying  still ;  so  I,  who  was  possessed,  perhaps,  of  a 
share  equal  to  what  had  fired  the  blood  of  any  of  the  heroes 
of  antiquity,  was  no  less  restless,  and  discontented  with  ease 
and  quiet.  My  first  endeavours  were  to  make  myself  head 
of  my  company,  which  Richard  I.  had  just  published,  and 
soon  afterwards  I  procured  myself  to  be  chosen  alderman. 

"  Opposition  is  the  only  state  which  can  ^ve  a  subject  an 
opportunity  of  exerting  the  disposition  I  was  possessed  of. 
Accordingly  king  John  was  no  sooner  seated  on  his  throne, 
than  I  began  to  oppose  his  measures,  whether  right  or 
wrong.  It  is  true  that  monarch  had  faults  enow.  He  was 
so  abandoned  to  lust  and  luxury  that  he  addicted  himself 
to  the  most  extravagant  excesses  in  both,  while  he  indolently 


WORLD  TO  TEE  NEXT,  &c.  3lT 

suffered  the  king  of  France  to  rob  him  of  almost  all  his 
foreign  dominions:  my  opposition  therefore  was  justifiable 
enough,  and  if  my  motive  from  within  had  been  as  good 
as  the  occasion  from  without,  I  should  have  had  little 
excuse :  but,  in  truth,  I  sought  nothing  but  my  own  prefer- 
ment, by  making  myself  formidable  to  the  king,  and  then 
selling  to  him  the  interest  of  that  party,  by  whose  means  I 
had  become  so.  Indeed,  had  the  public  good  been  my  care, 
however  zealously  I  might  have  opposed  the  beginning  of 
his  reign,  I  should  not  have  scrupled  to  lend  him  my  utmost 
assistance  in  the  struggle  between  him  and  pope  Innocent 
the  Third,  in  which  he  was  so  manifestly  in  the  right ;  nor 
have  suffered  the  insolence  of  that  pope,  and  the  power  of 
the  king  of  France,  to  have  compelled  him  in  the  issue  base- 
ly to  resign  his  crown  into  the  hands  of  the  former,  and 
receive  it  again  as  a  vassal;  by  means  of  which  acknowl- 
edgment the  pope  afterwards  claimed  this  kingdom  as  a 
tributary  fief  to  be  held  of  the  papal  chair.  A  claim  which 
occasioned  great  uneasiness  to  many  subsequent  princes, 
and  brought  numberless  calamities  on  the  nation.       -  -^ri 

"As  the  king  had,  among  other  concessions,  stipulated  to 
pay  an  immediate  sum  of  money  to  Pandulph,  which  he 
had  great  difficulty  to  raise,  it  was  absolutely  necessary  for 
him  to  apply  to  the  city,  where  my  interest  and  popularity 
were  so  high,  that  he  had  no  hopes  without  my  assistance. 
As  I  knew  this,  I  took  care  to  sell  myself  and  country  as 
high  as  possible.  The  terms  I  demanded,  therefore,  were 
a  place,  a  pension,  and  a  knighthood.  All  those  were  im- 
mediately consented  to.  I  was  forthwith  knighted,  and 
promised  the  other  two. 

"  I  now  mounted  the  hustings,  and  without  any  regard 
to  decency  or  modesty,  made  as  emphatical  a  speech  in 
favor  of  the  king  as  before  I  had  done  against  him.  In  this 
speech  I  justified  all  those  measures  which  I  had  before 
condemned,  and  pleaded  as  earnestly  with  my  fellow  citi- 
zens to  open  their  purses,  as  I  had  formerly  done  to  prevail 


318  .1   JOURNEY  FROM   THIS 

with  them  to  keep  thciu  t^hut.  But,  ahis !  my  rhetoric  had 
not  the  effect  I  proposed.  The  consequence  of  my  argu- 
ments was  only  conteinj)t  to  myself.  The  peojile  at  first 
stared  on  one  aii(»ther,  and  afterwards  began  unanimously 
to  express  tlieir  dislike.  An  impudent  felow  among  them 
reflecting  on  my  trade,  cried  out.  Stinking  Fish ;  which 
was  immediately  reiterated  through  the  whole  crowd.  I 
was  then  forced  to  slink  away  home :  but  I  was  not  able  to 
accomplish  my  retreat  without  being  attended  by  the  mob, 
who  huzza'd  me  along  the  street  with  the  repeated  cries  of 
Stinking  Fish. 

"  I  now  proceeded  to  court  to  inform  his  majesty  of  my 
faithful  service,  and  how  much  I  had  suffered  in  his  cause. 
I  found  by  my  first  reception,  he  had  already  heard  of  my 
success.  Instead  of  thanking  me  for  my  speech,  he  said,  the 
city  should  repent  of  their  obstinacy,  for  that  he  would 
show  them  who  he  was:  and  so  saying,  he  immediately 
turned  that  part  to  me,  to  which  the  toe  of  man  hath  so 
wonderful  an  affection,  that  it  is  very  difficult,  whenever  it 
presents  itself  conveniently,  to  keep  our  toes  from  the  most 
violent  and  ardent  salutation  of  it. 

"  I  was  a  little  nettled  at  this  behaviour,  and  with  some 
earnestness  claimed  the  king's  fulfilling  his  promise;  but 
he  retired  without  answering  me.  I  then  applied  to  some 
of  the  courtiers,  who  had  lately  professed  great  friendship 
to  me,  had  eat  at  my  house,  and  invited  me  to  theirs :  but 
not  one  would  return  me  any  answer,  all  running  away 
from  me,  as  if  I  had  been  seized  with  some  contagious  dis- 
temper. I  now  found  by  experience,  that  as  none  can  be  so 
civil,  so  none  can  be  ruder  than  a  courtier. 

"  A  few  moments  after  the  king's  retiring,  I  was  left 
alone  in  the  room,  to  consider  what  I  should  do,  or  whither 
I  should  turn  myself.  My  reception  in  the  city  promised 
itself  to  be  equal  at  least  with  what  I  found  at  court.  How- 
ever, there  was  my  home,  and  thither  it  was  necessary  I 
should  retreat  for  the  present. 


'WORLD  TO  THE  NEXT,  £c.  319 

"  But,  indeed,  bad  as  I  apprehended  my  treatment  in  the 
city  would  be,  it  exceeded  my  expectation.  I  rode  home 
on  an  ambling  pad  through  crowds,  who  expressed  every 
kind  of  disregard  and  contempt ;  pelting  me  not  only  with 
the  most  abusive  language,  but  with  dirt.  However,  with 
much  difficulty  I  arrived  at  last  at  my  own  house,  with  my 
bones  whole,  but  covered  over  with  filth. 

"  When  I  was  got  within  my  doors,  and  had  shut  them 
against  the  mob,  who  had  pretty  well  vented  their  spleen, 
and  seemed  now  contented  to  retire ;  my  wife,  whom  I 
found  crying  over  her  children,  and  from  whom  I  hoped 
some  comfort  in  my  afflictions,  fell  upon  me  in  the  most 
outrageous  manner.  She  asked  me,  why  I  would  venture 
on  such  a  step,  without  consulting  her ;  she  said, her  advice 
might  have  been  civilly  asked,  if  I  was  resolved  not  to 
have  been  guided  by  it.  That,  whatever  opinion  I  might 
have  conceived  of  her  understanding,  the  rest  of  the  world 
thought  better  of  it.  That  I  had  never  failed  when  I  had 
asked  her  counsel,  nor  ever  succeeded  without  it;  with 
much  more  of  the  same  kind,  too  tedious  to  mention :  con- 
cluding that  it  was  a  monstrous  behaviour  to  desert  my 
party,  and  come  over  to  the  court.  An  abuse  which  I  took 
worse  than  all  the  rest,  as  she  had  been  constantly  for  sev- 
eral years  assiduous  in  railing  at  the  opposition,  in  siding 
with  the  court-party,  and  begging  me  to  come  over  to  it. 
And  especially  after  my  mentioning  the  offer  of  knighthood 
to  her,  since  which  time  she  had  continually  interrupted  my 
repose  with  dinning  in  my  ears  the  folly  of  refusing  hon- 
ors, and  of  adhering  to  a  party,  and  to  principles  by  which 
I  was  certain  of  procuring  no  advantage  to  myself  and  my 
family. 

"  I  had  now  entirely  lost  my  trade,  so  that  I  had  not  the 
least  temptation  to  stay  longer  in  a  city  where  I  was  cer- 
tain of  receiving  daily  affronts  and  rebukes.  I  therefore 
made  up  my  affairs  with  the  utmost  expedition,  and,  scrap- 
ing together  all  I  could,  retired  into  the  country ;  where  I 


a20  A   JOURNEY  FROM  THIS 

spent  the  remainder  of  my  days  in  universal  contempt, 
being  shunned  by  everybody,  perpetually  abused  by  my 
wife,  and  not  much  respected  by  my  children. 

"  ]\lino3  told  me,  though  I  had  been  a  very  vile  fellow, 
he  thought  my  sufferings  made  some  atonement,  and  so  bid 
me  take  the  other  trial." 


CHAPTER  XXIV. 

Julian  recounts  tvhat  happened  to  him  ivhile  he  was  a  Poet. 

"  EoME  was  now  the  seat  of  my  nativity,  where  I  was 
bom  of  a  family  more  remarkable  for  honour  than  riches. 
I  was  intended  for  the  Church,  and  had  a  pretty  good  edu- 
cation ;  but  my  father  dying  while  I  was  young,  and  leav- 
ing me  nothing,  for  he  had  wasted  his  whole  patrimony,  I 
was  forced  to  enter  myself  in  the  order  of  mendicants. 

"  \Mien  I  was  at  school,  I  had  a  knack  of  rhyming,  which 
I  unhappily  mistook  for  genius,  and  indulged  to  my  cost ; 
for  my  verses  drew  on  me  only  ridicule,  and  I  was  in  con- 
tempt called  The  Poet. 

"  This  humour  pursued  me  through  my  life.  My  first 
composition  after  I  left  school,  was  a  panegyric  on  pope 
Alexander  IV.,  who  then  pretended  a  project  of  dethroning 
the  king  of  Sicily.  On  this  subject  I  composed  a  poem  of 
about  fifteen  thousand  lines,  which  with  much  difficulty  I 
got  to  be  presented  to  his  holiness,  of  whom  I  expected 
great  preferment  as  my  reward,  but  I  was  cruelly  disap- 
pointed :  for  when  I  had  waited  a  year,  without  hearing  any 
of  the  commendations  I  had  flattered  myself  with  receiv- 
ing, and  being  now  able  to  contain  no  longer,  I  applied  to  a 
Jesuit,  who  was  my  relation,  and  had  the  pope's  ear,  to 
know  what  his  holiness's  opinion  was  of  my  work ;  he  coldly 
answ-ered  me  that  he  was  at  that  time  busied  in  concerns  of 
too  much  importance  to  attend  to  the  reading  of  poems. 


WORLD  TO  THE  NEXT,  &c.  321 

"  However  dissatisfied  I  might  be,  and  really  was,  witli 
this  reception,  and  however  angry  I  was  with  the  pope,  for 
whose  understanding  I  entertained  an  immoderate  con- 
tempt, I  was  not  jet  discouraged  from  a  second  attempt. 
Accordingly,  I  soon  after  produced  another  work,  entitled, 
The  Trojan  Horse.  This  was  an  allegorical  work,  in  which 
the  Church  was  introduced  into  the  world,  in  the  same  man- 
ner as  that  machine  had  been  into  Troy.  The  priests  were 
the  soldiers  in  its  belly,  and  the  heathen  superstition  the 
city  to  be  destroyed  by  them.  This  poem  was  written  in 
Latin.    I  remember  some  of  the  lines : 

*'  Mundanos  scandit  fatalis  machina  muros, 
Farta  sacerdotum  turmis  :  exinde  per  alvum 
Visi  exire  omnes,  magno  cum  murmure  olentes. 
Non  aliter  quavi  cum  humanis  furibundus  ah  Antris 
It  sonus  et  Nares  simul  aura  invadit  Mantes. 
Mille  scatent  et  mills  alii  ;  trepidare  timore 
Ethnica  gens  ccepit :  falsi  per  inane  volantes 
Effugere  Dei — Desertaque  tempta  relinquunt. 
Jam  magnum  crepitavit  equus,  mox  orbis  et  alti 
Ingemuere  poli :  tunc  tu  pater,  ultimus  omnium 
Maxime  Alexander,  ventrem  maturus  equinum 
Deseres,  hen  proles  meliori  digue  parentey 

I  believe  Julian,  had  I  not  stopt  him,  would  have 
gone  through  the  whole  poem  (for,  as  I  observed,  in  most 
of  the  characters  he  related,  the  affections  he  had  enjoyed 
while  he  personated  them  on  earth,  still  made  some  im23res- 
sion  on  him)  ;  but  I  begged  him  to  omit  the  sequel  of  the 
poem,  and  proceed  with  his  history.  He  then  recollected 
himself,  and,  smiling  at  the  observation  which  by  intuition 
he  j^erceived  I  had  made,  continued  his  narration  as  fol- 
lows : — 

"I  confess  to  you,"  says  he,  "that  the  delight  in  repeating 
our  own  works  is  so  predominant  in  a  poet  that  I  find  noth- 
ing can  totally  root  it  out  of  the  soul.  Happy  would  it  be 
21 


322  A   JOURNEY  FROM  THIS 

for  those  persons,  if  their  hearers  coiihl  be  delighted  in  the 
same  manner;  but  alas!  hence  that  ingens  solitudo  com- 
plained of  by  Horace:  for  the  vanity  of  mankind  is  so  much 
greedier  and  more  general  than  their  avarice,  that  no  beg- 
gar is  so  ill  received  by  them  as  he  who  solicits  their  praise. 

"  This  I  sufficiently  exix?rienced  in  the  character  of  a 
poet;  for  my  company  was  shunned  (I  l^elieve,  on  tliis  ac- 
count chiefly)  by  my  whole  house ;  nay,  there  were  few  who 
would  submit  to  hear  me  read  my  poetry,  even  at  the 
price  of  sharing  in  my  provisions.  The  only  person  who 
gave  me  audience  was  a  brother  poet;  he  indeed  fed  me 
witli  commendation  very  liberally:  but  as  I  was  forced  to 
hear  and  commend  in  my  turn  I  perhaps  bought  his  atten- 
tion dear  enough. 

"  Well,  sir,  if  my  expectations  of  the  reward  I  hoped 
from  my  first  poem  had  baulked  me,  I  had  now"  still  greater 
reason  to  complain ;  for  instead  of  being  preferred  or  com- 
mended for  the  second,  I  was  enjoined  a  very  severe  pen- 
ance by  my  superior  for  ludicrously  comparing  the  pope  to 
a  fart.  My  poetry  was  now  the  jest  of  every  company, 
except  some  few  who  spoke  of  it  with  detestation ;  and  I 
found,  that  instead  of  recommending  me  to  preferment,  it 
had  effectually  barred  me  from  all  probability  of  attaining 
it. 

"  These  discouragements  had  now  induced  me  to  lay 
do^\^^  my  pen  and  write  no  more.     But,  as  Juvenal  says, 

' ' '  — Si  discedas,  Laqueo  tenet  ambitiosi 
Consicetudo  niali. 

I  was  an  example  of  the  truth  of  this  assertion:  for  I 
soon  betook  myself  again  to  my  muse.  Indeed,  a  poet  hath 
the  same  happiness  with  a  man  who  is  dotingly  fond  of  an 
ugly  woman.  The  one  enjoys  his  muse,  and  the  other  his 
mistress,  with  a  pleasure  very  little  abated  by  the  esteem 
of  the  world,  and  only  undervalues  their  taste  for  not  cor- 
responding with  his  own. 

"It  is  unnecessary  to  mention  any  more  of  my  poems; 


WORLD  TO  THE  NEXT,  &c.  323 

they  had  all  the  same  fate ;  and  though  in  reality  some  of 
my  latter  pieces  deserved  (I  may  now  speak  it  without  the 
imputation  of  vanity)  a  better  success,  as  I  had  the  char- 
acter of  a  bad  writer,  I  found  it  impossible  ever  to  obtain 
the  reputation  of  a  good  one.  Had  I  possessed  the  merit  of 
Homer  I  could  have  hoped  for  no  applause ;  since  it  must 
have  been  a  profound  secret ;  for  no  one  would  now  read  a 
syllable  of  my  writings. 

"  The  poets  of  my  age  were,  as  I  believe  you  know,  not 
very  famous.  However,  there  was  one  of  some  credit  at 
that  time,  though  I  have  the  consolation  to  know  his  Avorka 
are  all  perished  long  ago.  The  malice,  envy,  and  hatred  I 
bore  this  man,  are  inconceivable  to  any  but  an  author,  and 
an  unsuccessful  one ;  I  never  could  bear  to  hear  him  well 
spoken  of,  and  writ  anonymous  satires  against  him  though 
I  had  received  obligations  from  him;  indeed  I  believe  it 
would  have  been  an  absolute  impossibility  for  him  at  any 
rate  to  have  made  me  sincerely  his  friend. 

"  I  have  heard  an  observation  which  was  made  by  some 
one  of  later  days,  that  there  are  no  worse  men  than  bad 
authors.  A  remark  of  the  same  kind  hath  been  made  on 
ugly  women,  and  the  truth  of  both  stands  on  one  and  the 
same  reason,  viz.,  that  they  are  both  tainted  with  that 
cursed  and  detestable  vice  of  envy ;  which,  as  it  is  the  great- 
est torment  to  the  mind  it  inhabits,  so  is  it  capable  of  intro- 
ducing into  it  a  total  corruption,  and  of  inspiring  it  to  the 
commission  of  the  most  horrid  crimes  imaginable. 

"  My  life  was  but  short ;  for  I  soon  pined  myself  to  death 
with  the  vice  I  just  now  mentioned.  Minos  told  me,  I  was 
infinitely  too  bad  for  Elysium ;  and  as  for  the  other  place, 
the  devil  had  sworn  he  would  never  entertain  a  poet  for 
Orpheus's  sake ;  so  I  was  forced  to  return  again  to  the  place 
from  whence  I  came. 


324  A   JOURNEY  FROM   TUIS 

CHAPTER  XXV. 

Julian  performs  the  2icirts  of  a  Knight,  and  a  Dancing-Master. 

"  I  .\o\v  luountod  the  .stai;o  in  Sicily,  and  bocanio  a 
knight-templar:  but,  as  my  advontiiros  differ  so  little  from 
those  I  have  recounted  jou  in  the  character  of  a  common 
soldier,  I  shall  not  tire  you  with  repetition.  The  soldier  and 
the  captain  differ  in  reality  so  little  from  one  another,  that 
it  requires  an  accurate  judgment  to  distinguish  them;  the 
latter  wears  finer  clothes,  and  in  times  of  success  lives  some- 
what more  delicately ;  but  as  to  everything  else,  they  very 
nearly  resemble  one  another. 

"  My  next  step  was  into  France,  where  fortune  assigned 
me  the  j^art  of  a  dancing-master.  I  was  so  expert  in  my 
profession,  that  I  was  brought  to  court  in  my  youth,  and 
had  the  heels  of  Philip  de  Valois,  who  afterwards  suc- 
ceeded Charles  the  Fair,  committed  to  my  direction. 

"  I  do  not  remember  that  in  any  of  the  characters  in 
which  I  appeared  on  earth  I  ever  assumed  to  myself  a 
greater  dignity,  or  thought  myself  of  more  real  importance 
than  now.  I  looked  on  dancing  as  the  greatest  excellence 
of  human  nature  and  on  myself  as  the  greatest  proficient  in 
it.  And  indeed,  this  seemed  to  be  the  general  opinion  of 
the  whole  court ;  for  I  was  the  chief  instructor  of  the  youth 
of  both  sexes,  whose  merit  was  almost  entirely  defined  by 
the  advances  they  made  in  that  science  which  I  had  the 
honour  to  profess.  As  to  myself,  I  was  fully  persuaded  of 
this  truth,  that  I  not  only  slighted  and  despised  those  wdio 
were  ignorant  of  dancing;  but  I  thought  the  highest  char- 
acter I  could  give  of  any  man  was  that  he  made  a  graceful 
bow :  for  want  of  which  accomplishment  I  had  a  sovereign 
contempt  for  most  persons  of  learning;  nay,  for  some 
officers  in  the  army,  and  a  few  even  of  the  courtiers  them- 
selves. 


32-i 


A   JOURNEY  FROM   THIS 


CHAPTEK  XXV. 

Jminii  2i<  rjonns  the pnrta  of  a  Knight,  and  a  Dancxng  Master. 

""1    NOW   ni<)untf'«l   tljc   ft;  ••     ••  ■    -  .^ 

kni^ht-ttiii|)lar :  l»ut,  as  my  a<> 

tho!»o  I  havo  reeountod  you  in  the  character  of  a  common 
'  ''<  r,  I  shall  not  tiro  you  with  ropotition.  The  soldier  aii<l 
<  ;i|)tain  differ  in  reality  so  little  from  one  another,  that 
it  requires  an  accurate  judgment  to  distinguish  them ;  the 
latter  wears  finer  clothes,  and  in  times  of  success  lives  some- 
what more  delicately ;  but  as  to  everything  else,  tliov  very 
nearly  resemble  one  another. 

"  My  next  step  was  into  France,  where  fortune  assigned 
me  the  part  of  a  dancing-master.  I  was  so  expert  in  my 
profession,  that  I  was  brought  to  court  in  my  youth,  and 
had  the  heels  of  Philip  de  Valois,  who  afterwards  suc- 
ceeded Charles  the  Fair,  committed  to  my  direction. 

"  I  do  not  remember  that  in  any  of  the  characters  in 
which  I  appeared  on  earth  I  ever  assumed  to  myself  a 
greater  dignity,  or  thought  myself  of  more  real  imix)rtance 
than  now.  I  looked  on  dancing  as  the  greatest  excellence 
of  human  nature  and  on  myself  as  the  greatest  proficient  in 
'f  \n'l  indeed,  this  seemed  to  be  the  general  opinion  of 
U'  court ;  for  I  was  the  chief  instructor  of  the  youth 
.  whose  merit  was  almost  entirely  defined  by 
l-^'V  made  in  that  science  which  I  had  the 
Ap  to  myself,  I  was  fully  persuaded  of 
:hted  and  d(  viio 

!  I  thought  ; ^...    .  .  har- 

1  was  that  he  made  a  graceful 
'  •^^Hf"^«Rl^'a»isb^^#eign 

contempt  for  i....-,  ^„.^.,,,.  ..,  ..  ,,,  ..uig;  nay,  for  some 
officers  in  the  army,  and  a  few  even  of  the  courtiers  them- 
selves. 


hon' 
this 
wen 
. acter 
bow 


r  I  c. 

I  •slllil  ,    , 

:  for  vviii 


,-\v'l         ■'.'■M;-r.;„/,, 


^yOELD  TO  THE  NEXT,  &c.  325 

"  Though  so  little  of  my  youth  had  been  thrown  away  in 
what  they  call  literature,  that  I  could  hardly  write  and 
read,  yet  I  composed  a  treatise  on  education ;  the  first  rudi- 
ments of  which,  as  I  taught,  were  to  instruct  a  child  in  the 
science  of  coming  handsomely  into  a  room.  In  this  I  cor- 
rected many  faults  of  my  predecessors,  particularly  that  of 
being  too  much  in  a  hurry,  and  instituting  a  child  in  the 
sublimer  parts  of  dancing  before  they  are  capable  of  mak- 
ing their  honours. 

''  But  as  I  have  not  now  the  same  high  opinion  of  my 
profession  which  I  had  then,  I  shall  not  entertain  you  with 
a  long  history  of  a  life  which  consisted  of  borees  and  cou- 
pees.  Let  it  suffice  that  I  lived  to  a  very  old  age,  and  fol- 
lowed my  business  as  long  as  I  could  crawl.  At  length  I 
revisited  my  old  friend  Minos,  who  treated  me  with  very 
little  respect,  and  bade  me  dance  back  again  to  earth. 

"  I  did  so,  and  was  now  once  more  born  an  Englishman, 
bred  up  to  the  church,  and  at  length  arrived  to  the  station 
of  a  bishop. 

"  ^Nothing  was  so  remarkable  in  this  character,  as  my 
always  voting*." 


BOOK  XIX. 

CHAPTER  VII. 

WJierein  Anna  Boleyn  relates  the  history  of  her  life. 

"  I  AM  going  now  truly  to  recount  a  life,  which  from  the 
time  of  its  ceasing,  has  been,  in  the  other  world,  the  con- 
tinual subject  of  the  cavils  of  contending  parties ;  the  one 

*  Here  part  of  the  manuscript  is  lost,  and  that  a  very  considerable  one,  as  ap- 
pears by  the  number  of  the  next  book  and  chapter,  which  contains,  1  find,  the  his- 
tory of  Anna  Boleyn  :  but  as  to  the  manner  in  which  it  was  introduced,  or  to 
whom  the  narrative  is  told,  we  are  totally  left  in  the  dark.  I  have  only  to  remark, 
that  this  chapter  is,  in  the  original,  writ  in  a  woman's  hand  :  and  though  the  ob- 
servations  in  it  are,  I  think,  as  excellent  as  any  of  the  whole  volume,  there  seems 
to  be  a  difference  in  style  between  this  and  the  preceding  chapters  ;  and  as  it  is 
the  character  of  a  woman  which  is  related,  I  am  inclined  to  fancy  it  was  really 
written  hy  one  of  that  sex. 


32G  A   JOURNEY  FROM   THIS 

making  me  as  black  as  hell,  the  other  as  pure  and  innocent 
as  the  inhabitants  of  this  blessed  place;  the  mist  of  preju- 
dice blinding  their  eyes,  and  zeal  for  what  they  themselves 
profess   making   everything   appear    in   the    light,    which 
they  think  most  conduces  to  its  honour. 

"  My  infancy  was  spent  in  my  father's  house  in  those 
childish  plays,  which  are  most  suitable  to  that  state,  and  I 
think  this  was  one  of  the  happiest  parts  of  my  life ;  for  my 
parents  were  not  among  the  number  of  those  who  look  upon 
their  children  as  so  many  objects  of  a  tyrannic  power,  but 
I  was  regarded  as  the  dear  pledge  of  a  virtuous  love,  and 
all  my  little  pleasures  were  thought  from  their  indulgence 
their  greatest  delight.  At  seven  years  old,  I  was  carried 
into  France  with  the  king's  sister,  who  was  married  to  the 
French  king,  where  I  lived  with  a  person  of  quality,  who 
was  an  acquaintance  of  my  father's.  I  spent  my  time  in 
learning  those  things  necessary  to  give  young  persons  of 
fashion  a  polite  education,  and  did  neither  good  nor  evil, 
but  day  passed  after  day  in  the  same  easy  way,  till  I  was 
fourteen ;  then  began  my  anxiety,  my  vanity  grew  strong, 
and  my  heart  fluttered  with  joy  at  every  compliment  paid 
to  my  beauty :  and  as  the  lady,  -with  whom  I  lived,  was  of 
a  gay,  cheerful  disposition,  she  kept  a  great  deal  of  com- 
pany, and  my  youth  and  charms  made  me  the  continual 
object  of  their  admiration.  I  passed  some  little  time  in 
those  exulting  raptures,  which  are  felt  by  every  woman, 
perfectly  satisfied  with  herself  and  with  the  behaviour  of 
others  towards  her :  I  was,  when  very  young,  promoted  to 
be  maid  of  honour  to  her  majesty.  The  court  was  fre- 
quented by  a  young  nobleman,  whose  beauty  was  the  chief 
subject  of  conversation  in  all  assemblies  of  ladies.  The 
delicacy  of  his  person,  added  to  a  great  softness  in  his  man- 
ner, gave  everything  he  said  and  did  such  an  air  of  tender- 
ness, that  every  woman  he  spoke  to  flattered  herself  with 
being  the  object  of  his  love.  I  was  one  of  those  who  was 
vain  enough  of  my  own  charms  to  hope  to  make  a  conquest 


WORLD  TO  TEE  NEXT,  &c.  32T 

of  him,wliom  the  whole  court  sighed  for :  for  I  now  thought 
every  other  object  below  my  notice :  yet  the  only  pleasure  I 
proposed  to  myself  in  this  design  was,  the  triumphing  over 
that  heart,  which  I  plainly  say  all  the  ladies  of  the  highest 
quality,  and  the  greatest  beauty  would  have  been  proud  of 
possessing.  I  was  yet  too  young  to  be  very  artful ;  but  nat- 
ure, without  any  assistance,  soon  discovers  to  a  man,  who  is 
used  to  gallantry,  a  woman's  desire  to  be  liked  by  him, 
whether  that  desire  arises  from  any  particular  choice  she 
makes  of  him,  or  only  from  vanity.  He  soon  perceived 
my  thoughts,  and  gratified  my  utmost  wishes  by  constantly 
preferring  me  before  all  other  women,  and  exerting  his  ut- 
most gallantry  and  address  to  engage  my  affections.  This 
sudden  happiness,  which  I  then  thought  the  greatest  I 
could  have  had,  appeared  visibly  in  all  my  actions ;  I  grew 
so  gay,  and  so  full  of  vivacity,  that  it  made  my  person 
appear  still  to  a  better  advantage,  all  my  acquaintance 
pretending  to  be  fonder  of  me  than  ever :  though,  young  as 
I  was,  I  plainly  saw  it  was  but  pretence,  for,  through  all 
their  endeavours  to  the  contrary,  envy  would  often  break 
forth  in  sly  insinuations,  and  malicious  sneers,  which  gave 
me  fresh  matter  of  triumph,  and  frequent  opportunities 
of  insulting  them ;  which  I  never  let  slip,  for  now  first  my 
female  heart  grew  sensible  of  the  spiteful  pleasure  of  seeing 
another  languish  for  what  I  enjoyed.  Whilst  I  was  in  the 
height  of  my  happiness,  her  majesty  fell  ill  of  a  languish- 
ing distemper,  which  obliged  her  to  go  into  the  country  for 
the  change  of  air ;  my  place  made  it  necessary  for  me  to  at- 
tend her,  and  which  way  he  brought  it  about,  I  can't 
imagine,  but  my  young  hero  found  means  to  be  one  of  that 
small  train  that  waited  on  my  royal  mitress,  although  she 
went  as  privately  as  possible.  Hitherto  all  the  interviews 
I  had  ever  had  with  him  were  in  public,  and  I  only  looked 
on  him  as  the  fitter  object  to  feed  that  pride  which  had  no 
other  view  but  to  show  its  power ;  but  now  the  scene  was 
quite  changed.     Hy  rivals  were   all  at  a  distance:  the 


32S  :i   JOURNEY  FROM   THIS 

place  we  went  to  was  as  chariaing  as  the  most  agreeable 
natural  situation,  assisted  by  the  greatest  art,  could  make 
it;  the  pleasimt  solitary  walks,  the  singing  of  birds,  the 
thousand  pretty  romantic  scenes  this  delightful  place 
afforded,  gave  a  sudden  turn  to  my  mind,  my  whole 
soul  was  melted  into  softness,  and  all  my  vanity  was  fled. 
My  spark  was  too  much  used  to  affairs  of  this  nature  not  to 
perceive  this  change;  at  first  the  profuse  transports  of  his 
joy  made  me  believe  him  wholly  mine,  and  the  belief 
gave  me  such  happiness,  that  no  language  affords  words  to 
express  it,  and  can  be  only  known  to  those  who  have  felt  it. 
But  this  was  of  a  very  short  duration,  for  I  soon  found  I 
had  to  do  with  one  of  those  men,  whose  only  end  in  the 
pursuit  of  a  woman  is  to  make  her  fall  a  victim  to  an  in- 
satiable desire  to  be  admired.  Ilis  designs  had  succeeded, 
and  now  he  every  day  grew  colder,  and  if  by  infatuation, 
my  passion  every  day  increased ;  and,  notwithstanding 
all  my  resolutions  and  endeavours  to  the  contrary,  my  rage 
at  the  disappointment  at  once  both  of  my  love  and  pride, 
and  at  the  finding  a  passion  fixed  in  my  breast  I  knew  not 
how  to  conquer,  broke  out  into  that  inconsistent  behaviour, 
which  must  always  bo  the  consequence  of  violent  passions. 
One  moment  I  reproached  him,  the  next  I  grew  to  tender- 
ness and  blamed  myself,  and  thought  I  fancied  what  was 
not  true ;  he  saw  nu'  struggle  and  triumphed  in  it ;  but 
as  he  had  not  witnesses  enough  there  of  his  victory,  to  give 
him  the  full  enjoyment  of  it,  he  grew  weary  of  the  country, 
and  returned  to  Paris,  and  left  me  in  a  condition  it  is 
utterly  imixjssible  to  describe.  ]\Iy  mind  was  like  a  city 
up  in  arms,  all  confusion :  and  every  new  thought  was  a 
fresh  disturber  of  my  peace.  Sleep  quite  forsook  me,  and 
the  anxiety  I  suffered,  threw  me  into  a  fever  which  had 
like  to  have  cost  me  my  life.  With  great  care  I  recovered ; 
but  the  violence  of  the  distemper  left  such  a  weakness  on 
my  body  that  the  disturbance  of  my  mind  was  greatly  as- 
suaged: and  now  I  began  to  comfort  myself  in  the  reflec- 


WORLD  TO  THE  NEXT,  &c.  329 

tion,  that  this  gentleman's  being  a  finished  coquet,  was  very 
likely  the  only  thing  could  have  preserved  me ;  for  he  was 
the  only  man  from  whom  I  was  ever  in  any  danger.  By 
that  time  I  was  got  tolerably  well,  we  returned  to  Paris ; 
and  I  confess  I  both  wished  and  feared  to  see  this  cause  of 
all  my  pain:  however,  I  hope,  by  the  help  of  my  resent- 
ment, to  be  able  to  meet  him  with  indifference.  This  em- 
ployed my  thoughts  till  our  arrival.  The  next  day  there 
was  a  very  full  court  to  congratulate  the  queen  on  her  re- 
covery ;  and  among  the  rest,  my  love  appeared  dressed  and 
adorned,  as  if  he  designed  some  new  conquest.  Instead  of 
seeing  a  woman  he  despised  and  slighted,  he  approached 
me  with  that  assured  air  which  is  common  to  successful  cox- 
combs. At  the  same  time,  I  perceived  I  was  surrounded 
by  all  those  ladies  who  were  on  his  account  my  greatest 
enemies:  and,  in  revenge,  wished  for  nothing  more  than 
to  see  me  make  a  ridiculous  figure.  This  situation  so 
perplexed  my  thoughts,  that  when  he  came  near  enough 
to  speak  to  me,  I  fainted  away  in  his  arms.  (Had  I 
studied  which  way  I  could  gratify  him  most,  it  was  im- 
possible to  have  done  anything  to  have  pleased  him  more) 
Some  that  stood  by,  brought  smelling-bottles,  and  used 
means  for  my  recovery;  and  I  was  welcomed  to  returning 
life  by  all  those  ill-natured  repartees,  which  women  en- 
raged by  envy  are  capable  of  venting.  One  cried,  '  Well, 
I  never  thought  my  lord  had  anything  so  frightful  in  his 
person,  or  so  fierce  in  his  manner  as  to  like  to  stike  a  young 
lady  dead  at  the  sight  of  him.'  '  jSTo,  no,'  says  another, 
'  some  ladies'  senses  are  more  apt  to  be  hurried  by  agree- 
able than  disagreeable  objects.'  With  many  more  such 
sort  of  speeches  which  showed  more  malice  than  wit. 
This  not  being  able  to  bear,  trembling,  and  with  but  just 
strength  enough  to  move,  I  crawled  to  my  coach  and 
hurried  home.  When  I  was  alone,  and  thought  on  what 
had  happened  to  me  in  a  public  court,  I  was  at  first  driven 
to  the  utmost  despair;  but  afterwards,  when  I  came  to 


S30  A  JOURNEY  FROM   THIS 

reflect,  I  believe  this  accident  contributod  more  to  my  being 
cured  of  my  passion,  than  any  other  could  have  done.  I 
began  to  think  the  only  method  to  pique  the  man,  who  had 
used  me  so  barbarously,  and  to  be  revenged  on  my  spiteful 
rivals,  was  to  recover  that  beauty,  which  was  then  languid, 
and  had  lost  its  lustre,  to  let  them  see  I  had  still  channa 
enough  to  engage  as  many  lovers  as  I  could  desire,  and 
that  I  could  yet  rival  them,  who  had  thus  cruelly  insulted 
me.  These  pleasing  hopes  revived  my  sinking  spirits,  and 
worked  a  more  effectual  cure  on  me,  than  all  the  philosophy 
and  advice  of  the  wisest  men  could  have  done.  I  now  em- 
ployed all  my  time  and  care  in  adorning  my  person,  and 
studying  the  surest  means  of  engaging  the  affection  of 
others,  w^hile  I  myself  continued  quite  indifferent;  for  I 
resolved  for  the  future,  if  ever  one  soft  thought  made  its 
way  to  my  heart,  to  fly  the  object  of  it,  and  by  new  lovers  to 
drive  the  image  from  my  breast.  I  consulted  my  glass 
every  morning,  and  got  such  a  command  of  my  counte- 
nance, that  I  could  suit  it  to  the  different  tastes  of  a  variety 
of  lovers ;  and  though  I  was  young,  for  I  was  not  yet  above 
seventeen,  yet  my  public  way  of  life  gave  me  such  contin- 
ual opportunities  of  conversing  with  men,  and  the  strong 
desire  I  now  had  of  pleasing  them,  led  me  to  make  such  con- 
stant observations  on  everything  they  said  or  did,  that  I 
soon  found  out  the  different  methods  of  dealing  with 
them.  I  observed  that  most  men  generally  liked  in  wo- 
men what  w^as  most  opposite  to  their  own  characters ;  there- 
fore, to  the  grave  solid  man  of  sense  I  endeavoured  to  ap- 
pear sprightly,  and  full  of  spirit ;  to  the  witty  and  gay, 
soft  and  languishing;  to  the  amorous  (for  they  want  no  in- 
crease of  their  passions)  cold  and  reserved;  to  the  fearful 
and  backward,  warm  and  full  of  fire,  and  so  of  all  the  rest. 
As  to  beaux,  and  all  those  sort  <»f  iiion,  whose  desires  are 
centered  in  the  satisfaction  of  their  vanity,  I  had  learned 
by  sad  experience,  the  only  way  to  deal  w^ith  them  was  to 
laugh  at  them,  and  let  their  own  good  opinion  of  themselves 


WORLD  TO  THE  NEXT,  &c.  331 

be  the  only  support  of  their  hopes.  I  knew,  while  I  could 
get  other  followers,  I  was  sure  of  them ;  for  the  only  sign 
of  modesty  they  ever  give,  is  that  of  not  depending  on  their 
own  judgments,  but  following  the  opinions  of  the  greatest 
number.  Thus  furnished  with  maxims,  and  grown  wise  by 
past  errors,  I  in  a  manner  began  the  world  again:  I 
appeared  in  all  public  places  handsomer  and  more  lively 
than  ever,  to  the  amazement  of  every  one  who  saw  me,  and 
had  heard  of  the  affair  between  me  and  my  lord.  He  him- 
self was  much  surprised,  and  vexed  at  this  sudden  change, 
nor  could  he  account  how  it  was  possible  for  me  so  soon 
to  shake  off  those  chains  he  thought  he  had  fixed  on  me  for 
life,  nor  was  he  willing  to  lose  his  conquest  in  this  manner. 
He  endeavoured  by  all  means  possible  to  talk  to  me  again 
of  love,  but  I  stood  fixed  to  my  resolution  (in  which  I  was 
greatly  assisted  by  the  crowd  of  admirers  that  daily  sur- 
rounded me),  never  to  let  him  explain  himself :  for  notwith- 
standing all  my  pride,  I  found  the  first  impression  the  heart 
recieves  of  love  is  so  strong  that  it  requires  the  most  vigi- 
lant care  to  prevent  a  relapse.  ISTow  I  lived  three  years  in  a 
constant  round  of  diversions,  and  was  made  the  perfect  idol 
of  all  the  men  that  came  to  court  of  all  ages  and  all 
characters.  I  had  several  good  matches  offered  me,  but 
I  thought  none  of  them  equal  to  my  merit;  and  one  of 
my  greatest  pleasures  was  to  see  those  women,  who  had  pre- 
tended to  rival  me,  often  glad  to  marry  those  whom  I  had 
refused.  Yet,  notwithstanding  this  great  success  of  my 
schemes,  I  cannot  say  I  was  perfectly  happy;  for  every 
woman  that  was  taken  the  least  notice  of,  and  every  man 
that  was  insensible  to  my  arts,  gave  me  as  much  pain  as  all 
the  rest  gave  me  pleasure;  and  sometimes  little  under- 
hand plots,  which  were  laid  against  my  designs,  would 
succeed  in  spite  of  my  care :  so  that  I  really  began  to  grow 
weary  of  this  manner  of  life,  when  my  father,  returning 
from  his  embassy  in  France,  took  me  home  with  him,  and 
carried  me  to  a  little  pleasant  country-house,  where  there 


332  A    JOURNEY  FROM  THIS 

■was  nothing  grand  or  superfluous,  but  everything  neat  and 
agreeable;  there  I  led  a  life  perfectly  solitary.  At  first, 
the  time  hung  very  heavy  on  my  hands,  and  I  wanted  all 
kind  of  employment,  and  I  had  very  like  to  have  fallen  into 
the  height  of  the  vapours,  from  no  other  reason  but  from 
want  of  knowing  what  to  do  with  myself.  But  when  I  had 
lived  here  a  little  time,  I  found  such  a  calmness  in  my 
mind,  and  such  a  difference  between  this  and  the  restless 
anxieties  I  had  experienced  in  a  court,  that  I  began  to 
share  the  tran(|uillity  that  visibly  appeared  in  everything 
around  me.  I  set  myself  to  do  works  of  fancy,  and  to  raise 
little  flower-gardens,  with  many  such  innocent  rural  amuse- 
ments; which  although  they  arc  not  capable  of  affording 
any  great  pleasure,  yet  they  give  that  serene  turn  to  the 
mind,  which  I  think  much  preferable  to  anything  else 
human  nature  is  made  susceptible  of.  I  now  resolved  to 
spend  the  rest  of  my  days  here,  and  that  nothing  should 
allure  me  from  this  sweet  retirement,  to  be  again  tossed 
about  with  tempestuous  passions  of  any  kind.  "\Miilst  I 
was  in  this  situation,  my  lord  Piercy,  the  earl  of  !N^orth- 
nmberland's  eldest  son,  by  an  accident  of  losing  his  way 
after  a  fox-chase,  was  met  by  my  father,  about  a  mile 
from  our  house;  he  came  home  with  him,  only  with  a 
design  of  dining  with  us ;  but  was  so  taken  with  me, 
that  he  stayed  three  days.  I  had  too  much  experience 
in  all  affairs  of  this  kind,  not  to  see  presently 
the  influence  I  had  on  him ;  but  I  was  at  that  time  so 
entirely  free  from  all  ambition,  that  even  the  prospect  of 
being  a  countess  had  no  effect  on  me;  and  I  then  thought 
nothing  in  the  world  could  have  bribed  me  to  have  changed 
my  way  of  life.  This  young  lord,  who  was  just  in  his 
bloom,  found  his  passion  so  strong,  he  could  not  endure  a 
long  absence,  but  returned  again  in  a  week,  and  en- 
deavoured, by  all  the  means  he  could  think  of,  to  engage 
me  to  return  his  affection.  He  addressed  me  with  that 
tenderness  and  respect,  which  women  on  earth  think  can 


WORLD  TO  TEE  NEXT,  &c.  333 

flow  from  nothing  but  real  love:  and  very  often  told  me, 
that  unless  he  could  be  so  happy,  as  by  his  assiduity  and 
care  to  make  himself  agreeable  to  me,  although  he  knew 
my  father  would  eagerly  embrace  any  proposal  from  him, 
yet  he  would  suffer  that  last  of  miseries,  of  never  seeing  me 
more,  rather  than  owe  his  own  happiness,  to  anything 
that  might  be  the  least  contradiction  to  my  inclinations. 
This  manner  of  proceeding  had  something  in  it  so  noble 
and  generous,  that  by  deg-rees  it  raised  a  sensation  in  me, 
which  I  know  not  how  to  describe,  nor  by  what  name  to  call 
it ;  it  was  notliing  like  my  former  passion ;  for  there  was 
no  turbulence,  no  uneasy  waking  nights  attending  it,  but  all 
I  could  with  honour  grant  to  oblige  him,  appeared  to  me 
to  be  justly  due  to  his  truth  and  love,  and  more  the  effect 
of  gratetude,  than  of  any  desire  of  my  own.  The  character 
I  had  heard  of  him  by  my  father  at  my  first  returning 
to  England,  in  discoursing  of  the  young  nobility,  convinced 
me  that,  if  I  was  his  wife,  I  should  have  the  perpetual 
satisfaction  of  knowing  every  action  of  his  must  be  ap- 
proved by  all  the  sensible  part  of  mankind;  so  that  very 
soon  I  began  to  have  no  scruple  left,  but  that  of  leaving  my 
little  scene  of  quietness,  and  venturing  again  into  the 
world.  But  this,  by  his  continual  application  and  submis- 
sive behaviour,  by  degrees  entirely  vanished,  and  I  agreed 
he  should  take  his  own  time  to  break  it  to  my  father,  whose 
consent  he  was  not  long  in  obtaining ;  for  such  a  match  was 
by  no  means  to  be  refused.  There  remained  nothing  now 
to  be  done,  but  to  prevail  with  the  earl  of  Northumberland 
to  comply  with  what  his  son  so  ardently  desired ;  for  which 
purpose  he  set  out  immediately  for  London,  and  begged 
it  as  the  greatest  favour  that  I  would  accompany  my  father, 
who  was  also  to  go  thither  the  week  following.  I  coiild 
not  refuse  his  request,  and  as  soon  as  we  arrived  in 
town,  he  flew  to  me  with  the  greatest  raptures,  to  inform 
me  his  father  was  so  good,  that,  finding  his  happiness  de- 
pended on  his  answer,  he  had  given  him  free  leave  to  act  in 


33i:  A   JOURNEY  FROM   THIS 

this  affair  as  would  best  please  himself,  and  that  he  had  now 
no  obstacle  to  prevent  his  wishes.  It  was  then  the  beginning 
of  the  winter,  and  the  time  for  our  marriage  was  fixed  for 
the  latter  end  of  March :  the  consent  of  all  j)artics  made  his 
access  to  me  very  easy,  and  we  conversed  together  both 
with  innocence  and  pleasure.  As  his  fondness  was  so 
great,  that  he  contrived  all  the  methods  possible  to  keep  me 
continually  in  his  sight,  he  told  me  one  morning  he  was 
commanded  by  his  father  to  attend  him  to  court  that  eve- 
ning, and  begged  I  would  be  so  good  as  to  meet  him  there. 
I  was  now  so  used  to  act  as  he  would  have  me,  that  I  made 
no  difficulty  of  complying  with  his  desire.  Two  days 
after  this,  I  was  very  much  surprised  at  perceiving  such  a 
melancholy  in  his  countenance,  and  alteration  in  his  be- 
haviour,as  I  could  no  way  account  for ;  but  by  importunity, 
at  last  I  got  from  him,  that  Cardinal  Wolse}',  for  what 
reason  he  knew  not,  had  peremptorily  forbid  him  to  think 
any  more  of  me :  and,  when  ho  urged  that  his  father  was  not 
displeased  with  it,  the  cardinal,  in  his  imperious  manner, 
answered  him,  he  should  give  his  father  such  convincing 
reasons,  why  it  would  be  attended  with  great  inconven- 
iences, that  he  was  sure  he  could  bring  him  to  be  of  his 
opinion.  On  which  he  turned  from  him,  and  gave  him  no 
opportunity  of  replying.  I  could  not  imagine  what  design 
the  cardinal  could  have  in  intermeddling  in  this  match, 
and  I  was  still  more  perplexed  to  find  that  my  father  treat- 
ed my  lord  Piercy  with  much  more  coldness  than  usual ;  he 
too  saw  it,  and  we  both  wondered  what  could  possibly  be  the 
cause  of  all  this.  But  it  was  not  long  before  the  mystery 
was  all  made  clear  by  my  father,  who  sending  for  me  one 
day  into  his  chamber,  let  me  into  a  secret  which  was  as 
little  wished  for  as  expected.  He  began  with  the  surprising 
effects  of  youth  and  beauty,  and  the  madness  of  letting  go 
those  advantages  they  might  procure  us  till  it  was  too  late, 
w^hen  we  might  wish  in  vain  to  bring  them  back  again.  I 
stood  amazed  at  this  beginning;  he  saw  my  confusion,  and 


WORLD  TO  TEE  NEXT,  &c.  335 

bid  me  sit  down  and  attend  to  what  lie  was  going  to  tell  me, 
which  was  of  the  greatest  consequence;  and  he  hoped  I 
would  be  wise  enough  to  take  his  advice,  and  act  as  he 
should  think  best  for  my  future  welfare.  He  then  asked  me 
if  I  should  not  be  much  pleased  to  be  a  queen  ?  I  answered 
with  the  greatest  earnestness,  that  so  far  from  it,  I  would 
not  live  in  a  court  again  to  be  the  greatest  queen  in  the 
world ;  that  I  had  a  lover  who  was  both  desirous  and  able  to 
raise  mj  station,  even  beyond  my  wishes.  I  found  this 
discourse  was  very  displeasing;  my  father  frowned,  and 
called  me  a  romantic  fool,  and  said,  if  I  would  hearken  to 
him  he  could  make  me  a  queen ;  for  the  cardinal  had  told 
him,  that  the  king,  from  the  time  he  saw  me  at  court  the 
other  night,  liked  me;  and  intended  to  get  a  divorce  from 
his  wife,  and  to  put  me  in  her  place ;  and  ordered  him  to 
find  some  method  to  make  me  a  maid  of  honour  to  her  pres- 
ent majesty,  that  in  the  meantime  he  might  have  an  oppor- 
tunity of  seeing  me.  It  is  impossible  to  express  the  as- 
tonishment these  words  threw  me  into ;  and  notwithstanding 
that  the  moment  before,  when  it  appeared  at  so  great  a 
distance,  I  was  very  sincere  in  my  declaration,  how  much 
it  was  against  my  will  to  be  raised  so  high;  yet  now  the 
prospect  came  nearer,  I  confess  my  heart  fluttered,  and  my 
eyes  were  dazzled  with  the  view  of  being  seated  on  a  throne. 
My  imagination  presented  before  me  all  the  pomp,  power, 
and  greatness,  that  attend  a  crown;  and  I  was  so  per- 
plexed I  knew  not  what  to  answer,  but  remained  as  silent 
as  if  I  had  lost  the  use  of  my  speech.  My  father,  who 
guessed  what  it  was  that  made  me  in  this  condition,  pro- 
ceeded to  bring  all  the  arguments  he  thought  most  likely  to 
bend  me  to  his  will ;  at  last,  I  recovered  from  this  dream  of 
grandeur,  and  begged  him,  by  all  the  most  endearing  names 
I  could  think  of,  not  to  urge  me  dishonourably  to  forsake 
the  man,  who  I  was  convinced  would  raise  me  to  an  em- 
pire, if  in  his  power,  and  who  had  enough  in  his  power  to 
give  me  all  I  desired.    But  he  was  deaf  to  all  I  could  say, 


33G  A   JOURNEY  FROM  THIS 

and  insisted  that  by  next  week,  I  should  prepare  myself 
to  go  to  court:  bo  bid  me  consider  of  it,  and  not  prefer  a 
ridiculous  notion  of  honor  to  the  real  interest  of  my 
■whole  family,  but,  above  all  things,  not  to  disclose  what  he 
had  trusted  me  with.  On  which  he  left  me  to  my  own 
thoughts.  Wlien  I  was  alone,  I  reflected  how  little  real 
tenderness  this  behaviour  showed  to  me,  whose  happiness 
he  did  not  at  all  consult ;  but  only  looked  on  me  as  a  ladder, 
on  which  he  could  climb  to  the  height  of  his  own  ambitious 
desires :  and,  when  I  thought  of  his  fondness  for  me  in  my 
infancy,  I  could  impute  it  to  nothing,  but  either  the  lik- 
ing me  as  a  plaything,  or  the  gratification  of  his  vanity 
in  my  beauty.  But  I  was  too  much  divided  between  a 
crown  and  my  engagement  to  lord  Piercy  to  spend  much 
time  in  thinking  of  anything  else;  and  although  my  fa- 
ther had  positively  forbid  me,  yet,  when  he  came  next,  I 
could  not  help  acquainting  him  with  all  that  had  passed, 
with  the  reserve  only  of  the  struggle  in  my  own  mind  on 
the  first  mention  of  being  a  queen.  I  expected  he  would 
have  received  the  news  with  the  greatest  agonies;  but  he 
showed  no  vast  emotion :  however,  he  could  not  help  turning 
pale ;  and,  taking  me  by  the  hand,  looked  at  me  with  an  air 
of  tenderness,  and  said,  '  If  being  a  queen  will  make  you 
happy,  and  it  is  in  your  power  to  be  so,  I  would  not  for  the 
world  prevent  it,  let  me  suffer  what  I  will.'  This  amazing 
greatness  of  mind  had  on  me  quite  the  contrary  effect  from 
what  it  ought  to  have  had;  for  instead  of  increasing  my 
love  for  him,  it  almost  put  an  end  to  it,  and  I  began  to 
think,  if  he  could  part  with  me,  the  matter  was  not  much. 
And  I  am  convinced,  when  any  man  gives  up  the  pos- 
session of  a  woman,  whose  consent  he  has  once  obtained, 
let  his  motive  be  ever  so  generous,  he  will  disoblige  her.  I 
could  not  help  showing  my  dissatisfaction,  and  told  him, 
I  was  very  glad  this  affair  sat  so  easily  on  him.  lie  had 
not  power  to  answer,  but  was  so  suddenly  struck  with  this 
unexpected  ill-natured  turn  I  gave  his  behaviour  that  he 


WORLD  TO  THE  NEXT,  &c.  337 

stood  amazed  for  some  time,  and  then  bowed  and  left  me. 
IN'ow  I  was  again  left  to  mj  own  reflections ;  but  to  make 
anything  intelligible  out  of  them,  is  quite  impossible;  I 
washed  to  be  a  queen,  and  wished  I  might  not  be  one;  I 
would  have  my  lord  Piercy  happy  without  me;  and  yet  I 
would  not  have  the  power  of  my  charms  be  so  weak  that 
he  could  bear  the  thought  of  life  after  being  disappointed 
in  my  love.  But  the  result  of  all  these  confused  thoughts 
was  a  resolution  to  obey  my  father.  I  am  afraid  there  was 
not  much  duty  in  the  case,  though  at  that  time  I  was  glad  to 
take  hold  of  that  small  shadow,  to  save  me  from  looking  on 
my  own  actions  in  the  true  light.  When  my  lover  came 
again,  I  looked  on  him  with  that  coldness  that  he  could  not 
bear,  on  purpose  to  rid  myself  of  all  importunity :  for  since 
I  had  resolved  to  use  him  ill,  I  regarded  him  as  the  monu- 
ment of  my  shame,  and  his  every  look  appeared  to  me  to 
upbraid  me.  My  father  soon  carried  me  to  court ;  there  I 
had  no  very  hard  part  to  act ;  for,  with  the  experience  I  had 
had  of  mankind,  I  could  find  no  great  difficulty  in  man- 
aging a  man  who  liked  me,  and  for  whom  I  not  only  did  not 
care,  but  had  an  utter  aversion  to:  but  this  aversion  he 
believed  to  be  virtue :  for  how  credulous  is  a  man  who 
has  an  inclination  to  believe  ?  And  I  took  care  sometimes 
to  drop  words  of  cottages  and  love,  and  how  happy  the 
woman  was  who  fixed  her  affections  on  a  man  in  such  a 
station  of  life,  that  she  might  show  her  love  without  being 
suspected  of  hypocrisy  or  mercenary  views.  All  this  was 
swallowed  very  easily  by  the  amorous  king,  who  pushed  on 
the  divorce  with  the  utmost  impetuosity,  although  the 
affair  lasted  a  good  while,  and  I  remained  most  part  of  the 
time  behind  the  curtain.  Whenever  the  king  mentioned  it 
to  me,  I  used  such  arguments  against  it,  as  I  thought  the 
most  likely  to  make  him  the  more  eager  for  it;  begging, 
that  unless  his  conscience  was  really  touched,  he  would  not 
on  my  account  give  any  grief  to  his  virtuous  queen ;  for,  in 
being  her  handmaid,  I  thought  myself  highly  honoured; 
22 


338  A   JOURNEY  FROM   THIS 

aiul  that  I  would  iKit  (Hily  forego  a  crown,  but  even  given  up 
the  pleasure  of  ever  seeing  liim  more,  rather  than  wrong 
luj  royal  mistress.  This  way  of  talking,  joined  to  his  eager 
desire  to  possess  my  person,  convinced  the  king  so  strongly 
of  my  exalted  merit  that  he  thought  it  a  meritorious  act 
to  displace  the  woman  (whom  he  could  not  have  so  good  an 
opinion  of,  because  he  was  tired  of  her),  and  to  put  me  in 
her  place.  After  about  a  year's  stay  at  court,  as  the 
king's  love  to  me  began  to  be  talked  of,  it  was  thought 
proper  to  remove  me,  that  there  might  be  no  umbrage  given 
to  the  queen's  party;  I  was  forced  to  comply  with  this, 
though  greatly  against  my  will;  for  I  was  very  jealous 
that  absence  might  change  the  king's  mind.  I  retired 
again  with  my  father  to  his  country-seat;  but  it  had  no 
longer  those  charms  for  me  Avhich  I  once  enjoyed  there ;  for 
my  mind  was  now  too  much  taken  up  wdth  ambition  to  make 
room  for  any  other  thoughts.  During  my  stay  here,  my 
royal  lover  often  sent  gentlemen  to  me  with  messages  and 
letters,  which  I  always  answered  in  the  manner  I  thought 
would  best  bring  about  my  designs,  which  were  to  come 
back  again  to  court.  In  all  the  letters  that  passed  between 
us,  there  was  something  so  kingly  and  commanding  in  his, 
and  so  deceitful  and  submissive  in  mine,  that  I  sometimes 
could  not  help  reflecting  on  the  difference  betwixt  this 
correspondence  and  that  with  lord  Piercy,  yet  I  was  so 
pressed  forward  by  the  desire  of  a  crown,  I  could  not  think 
of  turning  back.  In  all  I  wrote  I  continually  praised  his 
resolution  of  letting  me  be  at  a  distance  from  him,  since 
at  this  time  it  conduced  indeed  to  my  honour  ;  but  what  was 
of  ten  times  more  w^eight  with  me,  I  thought  it  was 
necessary  for  his;  and  I  would  sooner  suffer  anything 
in  the  world  than  be  any  means  of  hurt  to  him,  either 
in  his  interest,  or  reputation.  I  always  gave  some 
hints  of  ill-health,  with  some  reflections  how  necessary  the 
peace  of  the  mind  was  to  that  of  the  body.  By  these  means 
I  brought  him  to  recall  me  again  by  the  most  absolute 


WORLD  TO  THE  NEXT,  &c.  339 

command,  which  I  for  a  little  time  artfully  delayed  (for  I 
knew  the  impatience  of  his  temper  would  not  bear  any  con- 
tradiction), till  he  made  my  father  in  a  manner  force  me 
to  what  I  most  wished,  with  the  utmost  appearance  of 
reluctance  on  my  side.  When  I  had  gained  this  point,  I 
began  to  think  which  way  I  could  separate  the  king  from 
the  queen,  for  hitherto  they  lived  in  the  same  house.  The 
lady  Mary,  the  queen's  daughter,  being  then  about  sixteen, 
I  sought  for  emissaries  of  her  own  age,  that  I  could  confide 
in,  to  instil  into  her  mind  disrespectful  thoughts  of  her 
father,  and  make  a  jest  of  the  tenderness  of  his  conscience 
about  the  divorce.  I  knew  she  had  naturally  strong  pas- 
sions, and  that  young  people  of  that  age  are  apt  to  think 
those  that  pretend  to  be  their  friends  are  really  so,  and  only 
speak  their  minds  freely ;  I  afterwards  contrived  to  have 
every  word  she  spoke  of  him  carried  to  the  king ;  who  took  it 
all  as  I  could  wish,  and  fancied  those  things  did  not  come 
at  first  from  the  young  lady,  but  from  her  mother.  He 
would  often  talk  of  it  to  me,  and  I  agreed  with  him  in  his 
sentiments;  but  then,  as  a  great  proof  of  my  goodness,  I 
always  endeavoured  to  excuse  her,  by  saying  a  lady  so  long 
time  used  to  be  a  royal  queen  might  naturally  be  a  little 
exasperated  with  those  she  fancied  would  throw  her  from 
that  station  she  so  justly  deserved.  By  these  sort  of  plots, 
I  found  the  way  to  make  the  king  angry  with  the  queen ; 
for  nothing  is  easier  than  to  make  a  man  angry  with  a 
woman  he  wants  to  be  rid  of,  and  who  stands  in  the  way 
between  him  and  his  pleasures:  so  that  now  the  king,  on 
the  pretense  of  the  queen's  obstinacy,  in  a  point  where  his 
conscience  was  so  tenderly  concerned,  parted  with  her. 
Everything  Avas  now  plain  before:  I  had  nothing  far- 
ther to  do  but  to  let  the  king  alone  to  his  own  desires; 
and  I  had  no  reason  to  fear,  since  they  had  carried  him  so 
far,  but  that  they  would  urge  him  on  to  do  everything  I 
aimed  at.  I  was  created  marchioness  of  Pembroke.  This 
dignity  sat  very  easy  on  me ;  for  the  thoughts  of  a  much 


340  A   JOURNEY  FROM   THIS 

higlur  title  took  from  nu'  all  feeling  of  this:  and  I  looked 
iij)Ou  being  a  niareliioness  as  a  trifle,  not  that  I  saw  the  bau- 
ble in  its  true  light,  but  because  it  fell  short  of  what  I  had 
figured  to  myself  I  should  soon  obtain.  The  king's  desires 
grew  very  impatient,  and  it  was  not  long  before  I  was  pri- 
vately married  to  him.  I  was  no  sooner  his  wife  than  I  found 
all  the  queen  come  upon  me :  I  felt  myself  conscious  of  roy- 
alty, and  even  the  faces  of  my  most  intimate  acquaintance 
seemed  to  mo  to  be  quite  strange.  I  hardly  knew  them, 
height  had  turned  my  head,  and  I  was  like  a  man  placed 
on  a  monument,  to  whose  sight  all  creatures  at  a  great 
distance  below  him,  appear  like  so  many  little  pigmies 
crawling  about  on  the  earth ;  and  the  prospect  so  greatly 
delighted  me,  that  I  did  not  presently  consider,  that  in  both 
cases  descending  a  few  steps  erected  by  human  hands  would 
place  us  in  the  number  of  those  very  pigmies  who  appeared 
so  despicable.  Our  marriage  was  kept  private  for  some 
time,  for  it  was  not  thought  proper  to  make  it  public  (the 
affair  of  the  divorce  not  being  finished)  till  the  birth  of 
my  daughter  Elizabeth  made  it  necessary.  But  all  who 
saw  me  knew  it;  for  my  manner  of  speaking  and  acting 
was  so  much  changed  with  my  station,  that  all  around  me 
plainly  perceived,  I  was  sure  I  was  a  queen.  "While  it  was 
a  secret,  I  had  yet  something  to  wish  for;  I  could  not  be 
perfectly  satisfied,  till  all  the  world  was  acquainted  with  my 
fortune :  but  when  my  coronation  was  over,  and  I  was  raised 
to  the  height  of  my  ambition,  instead  of  finding  myself 
happy,  I  was  in  reality  more  miserable  than  ever ;  for  be- 
sides that  the  aversion  I  had  naturally  to  the  king  was  much, 
more  difficult  to  dissemble  after  marriage  than  before,  and 
grew  into  a  perfect  detestation,  my  imagination,  which  had 
thus  warmly  pursued  a  crown,  grew  cool  when  I  was  in  the 
possession  of  it,  and  gave  me  time  to  reflect  what  mighty 
matter  I  had  gained  by  all  this  bustle ;  and  I  often  used  to 
think  myself  in  the  case  of  the  fox-hunter,  who,  when  he 
has  toiled  and  sweated  all  day  in  the  chase,  as  if  some  un- 


WORLD  TO  THE  NEXT,  &c.  341 

heard  of  blessing  was  to  cro^vn  his  success,  finds  at  last, 
all  he  has  got  by  his  labor  is  a  stinking  nauseous  animal. 
But  my  condition  was  yet  worse  than  his ;  for  he  leaves  the 
loathsome  wretch  to  be  torn  by  his  hounds,  whilst  I  Avas 
obliged  to  fondle  mine,  and  meanly  pretend  him  to  be  the 
object  of  my  love.  For  the  whole  time  I  was  in  this  envied, 
this  exalted  state,  I  led  a  continual  life  of  hypocrisy,  which 
I  now  know  nothing  on  earth  can  compensate.  I  had  no 
companion  but  the  man  I  hated.  I  dare  not  disclose  my 
sentiments  to  any  person  about  me;  nor  did  any  one  pre- 
sume to  enter  into  any  freedom  of  conversation  with  me ; 
but  all  who  spoke  to  me,  talked  to  the  queen,  and  not  to  me ; 
for  they  would  have  said  just  the  same  things  to  a  dressed- 
up  puppet,  if  the  king  had  taken  a  fancy  to  call  it  his  wife. 
And  as  I  knew  every  woman  in  the  court  was  my  enemy, 
from  thinking  she  had  much  more  right  than  I  had  to  the 
place  I  filled,  I  thought  myself  as  unhappy,  as  if  I  had  been 
placed  in  a  wild  wood,  when  there  was  no  human  creature 
for  me  to  speak  to,  in  a  continual  fear  of  leaving  any  traces 
of  my  footsteps,  lest  I  should  be  found  by  some  dreadful 
monster,  or  stung  by  snakes  and  adders ;  for  such  are  spite- 
ful women  to  the  objects  of  their  env}^  In  this  worst  of  all 
situations,  I  was  obliged  to  hide  my  melancholy  and  appear 
cheerful.  This  threw  me  into  an  error  the  other  way,  and 
I  sometimes  fell  into  a  levity  in  my  behaviour,  that  was 
afterwards  made  use  of  to  my  disadvantage.  I  had  a  son 
dead-born,  which  I  perceived  abated  something  of  the  king's 
ardor ;  for  his  temper  could  not  brook  the  least  disappoint- 
ment. This  gave  me  no  uneasiness;  for,  not  considering 
the  consequences,  I  could  not  help  being  pleased  when 
I  had  the  least  of  his  company.  Afterwards  I  found  he  had 
cast  his  eyes  on  one  of  my  maids  of  honour ;  and  whether  it 
was  owing  to  art  of  hers,  or  only  to  the  king's  violent  pas- 
sions, I  was  in  the  end  used  even  worse  than  my  former 
mistress  had  been  by  my  means.  The  decay  of  the  king's 
affection  was  presently  seen  by  all  those  court-sycophants 


Si2  A   JOURNEY  FROM  THIS 

who  continually  Avatcli  the  motions  of  rojal  eyes;  and  tho 
moment  they  found  they  could  be  heard  against  me  they 
turned  my  most  innocent  actions  and  words,  nay,  even  my 
very  looks,  into  proofs  of  the  blackest  crimes.  The  king, 
who  was  impatient  to  enjoy  his  new  love,  lent  a  willing  ear 
to  all  my  accusers,  M'ho  found  ways  of  making  him  jealous 
that  I  was  false  to  his  bed.  He  would  not  so  easily  have  Ijo- 
lieved  anything  against  me  before,  but  he  was  now  glad 
to  flatter  himself  that  he  had  found  a  reason  to  do  just 
what  he  had  resolved  upon  without  a  reason ;  and  on  some 
slight  pretenses,  and  hearsay  evidence,  I  was  sent  to  the 
Tower,  where  the  lady,  who  was  my  greatest  enemy,  was 
appointed  to  watch  me  and  lie  in  the  same  chamber  with 
me.  This  was  really  as  bad  a  punishment  as  my  death ; 
for  she  insulted  me  with  those  keen  reproaches,  and  spiteful 
witticisms,  which  threw  me  into  such  vapours  and  violent 
fits  that  I  knew  not  what  I  uttered  in  this  condition.  She 
pretended,  I  had  confessed  talking  ridiculous  stuff  with  a 
set  of  low  fellows  whom  I  had  hardly  ever  taken  notice  of, 
as  could  have  imposed  on  none  but  such  as  were  resolved 
to  believe.  I  was  brought  to  my  trial,  and  to  blacken  me 
the  more,  accused  of  conversing  criminally  with  my  own 
brother,  whom  indeed  I  loved  extremely  well,  but  never 
looked  on  him  in  any  other  light  than  as  my  friend.  How- 
ever, I  was  condemned  to  be  beheaded,  or  burnt,  as  the  king 
pleased ;  and  he  was  graciously  pleased,  from  the  great  re- 
mains of  his  love,  to  choose  the  mildest  sentence.  I  was 
much  less  shocked  at  this  manner  of  ending  my  life,  than  I 
should  have  been  in  any  other  station;  but  I  had  had  so 
little  enjo;^^uent  from  the  time  I  had  been  a  queen  that 
death  was  the  less  dreadful  to  me.  The  chief  things  that 
lay  on  my  conscience,  were  the  arts  I  made  use  of  to  induce 
the  king  to  part  with  the  queen,  my  ill  usage  of  lady  Mary, 
and  my  jilting  lord  Piercy.  However,  I  endeavoured  to 
calm  my  mind  as  well  as  I  could,  and  hoped  these  crimes 
would  be  forgiven  me;  for  in  other  respects  I  had  led  a 


WORLD  TO  TEE  NEXT,  £c.  343 

very  innocent  life,  and  always  did  all  the  good-natured 
actions  I  found  any  opportunity  of  doing.  From  the  time 
I  had  it  in  my  power  I  gave  a  great  deal  of  money  amongst 
the  poor,  I  prayed  very  devoutly,  and  went  to  my  execu- 
tion very  composedly.  Thus  I  lost  my  life  at  the  age  of 
twenty-nine,  in  which  short  time  I  believe  I  went  through 
more  variety  of  scenes  than  many  people  who  live  to  be 
very  old.  I  had  lived  in  a  court,  where  I  spent  my  time 
in  coquetry  and  gaiety:  I  had  experienced  what  it  was  to 
have  one  of  those  violent  passions  which  makes  the  mind 
all  turbulence  and  anxiety.  I  had  had  a  lover  whom  I  es- 
teemed and  valued,  and,  at  the  latter  part  of  my  life,  I  was 
raised  to  a  station  as  high  as  the  vainest  woman  could  wish. 
But  in  all  these  various  changes  I  never  enjoyed  any  real 
satisfaction,  unless  in  the  little  time  I  lived  retired  in  the 
country  free  from  all  noise  and  hurry;  and  while  I  was 
conscious  I  was  the  object  of  the  love  and  esteem  of  a  man 
of  sense  and  honour." 

On  the  conclusion  of  this  history,  Minos  paused  for  a 
small  time,  and  then  ordered  the  gate  to  be  thrown  open 
for  Anna  Bole^m's  admittance;  on  the  consideration,  that 
whoever  had  suffered  being  a  queen  for  four  years,  and 
been  sensible  during  all  that  time  of  the  real  misery  which 
attends  that  exalted  station  ought  to  be  forgiven  whatever 
she  had  done  to  obtain  it.* 

*  Here  ends  this  curious  manuscript ;  the  rest  being  destroyed  in  rolling  up 
pens,  tobacco,  etc.  It  is  to  be  hoped  heedless  people  will  henceforth  be  more  cau- 
tious what  they  burn,  or  use  to  other  vile  purposes  :  especially  when  they  consider 
the  fate  which  had  likely  to  have  befallen  the  divine  Milton  ;  and  that  the  works 
of  Homer  were  probably  discovered  in  some  chandler's  shop  in  Greece. 


UNIVERSITY  ')F  CALIFORNIA  l.'3RARV 


F02a 
V.2 


UC  SOUTHERN  REGIONAL  LIBRARY  FACILIP, 


AA    000  368  091 


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